Nightmare Resurrected
by BlueSpartan107
Summary: Four months before the campaign of Halo 4, Private Michaels is sent to the surface of Installation 06 to investigate the disappearance of a SPARTAN ground team. With the help of a SPARTAN-IV Michaels believes his new team should be able to handle the situation perfectly. But as it turns out, an ancient evil has reawakened on the ring, and its intent is to consume the trespassers...
1. Chapter 1

Nightmare Resurrected - The Before Hours

UNSC Frigate Spirit of Justice

Orbiting Installation 06; March 14th, 2557

Within the hanger of the UNSC Frigate Spirit of Justice, Private Henry Michaels made sure his rifle was fully loaded and ready to be used on the surface of Installation 06. Command had found the ring during their investigations, and now the Spirit of Justice was being departed to scout the ring and place down some science teams to study it. Michaels himself found the idea to be stupid, as the ring was a giant superweapon housing a parasite that wants to consume the galaxy, but being a soldier he couldn't talk back to his commanders about it. So he had to obey his superior's orders and go on the ring to make sure no one was going to blow anything up.

Of course, if he had a nuke he'd just do it himself.

Laughter from the other side of the hanger revealed his friends and teammates were talking about some of their adventures from during the Human-Covenant War. Michaels was never part of the war as he was fresh from boot camp, but his new squad had taken him under their wing once he had joined the crew three weeks ago. He had no idea what purpose he had on their team as each and every one of them had their own major role in the field.

Turning the safety on so he could set his rifle aside, Michaels walked towards his crew, who were sitting down with drinks in their hands. The first one in front of him was Corporal Patrick McMillan, an Irish medic who loved his drink as much as the next man. Next to him was Private First Class Tyrone Phillips, whose love of explosions was only parallel to his mother's cooking. Sergeant Kayla Sterling was the only woman in the group, but she was also an experienced sniper and didn't play nice with the guys. The only one not present at the moment was Gunnery Sergeant Daniel Marshall. It was likely he was filing another report.

McMillan noticed the young private approached, and he gave him the proper greeting. "Oh hey, Michaels! Come, have a seat! We got beer!"

Michaels sat down next to him, a bit nervous about what was going to happen. "Shouldn't we be saving the drinks for the return?"

"We're just having one beer to relax. It's a tradition we've done before every mission. You know, in case one of us dies during a battle." He held the bottle out to Michaels, who hesitantly took it from the medic.

"So, how many friends have you lost if you don't mind me asking."

"Enough to make this a tradition. Forty men have been a part of this squad over twenty years. Only the Gunnery Sergeant has served the longest in the squad to carry out the tradition, back when he was a Private himself. So every new recruit is taught this little tradition so that it may carry on."

Michaels looked at the bottle. "You know I'm only nineteen, right?"

"Oh." McMillan spoke sheepishly. "I forgot you were from the States. Not like us, who were allowed to drink around your age."

Sterling seemed to reach into the cooler for another bottle, revealing it to be a bottle of orange pop. "Here." She spoke with an inherent British accent. "Gunnery Sergeant doesn't like drinking much, either. Orange is his favorite, though."

Michaels traded bottles with her, taking the orange liquid and letting its contents pour down his throat. A low laugh from Phillips forced him to stop as he almost choked on the fizzy liquid.

"The new guy's nervous, isn't he?" Phillips laughed. "He's downing that bottle faster than McMillan at the Christmas Party."

"Or faster than your mom's baked chicken." Sterling retorted.

"Hey, my mama makes the best damn chicken in the whole galaxy. That's not opinion-"

"It's fact. I get it."

Michaels couldn't help but laugh at that.

Sterling turned back to face Michaels. "So, what made you decide to join the UNSC?"

"I thought I could try to help people." Michaels answered. "My friends were always talking about the war and how it fucked up a lot of things. So I thought that maybe I could do something to help the galaxy. After all that training, however, I don't think this current mission will benefit from my help."

"Ha!" McMillan laughed. "You're just still feeling like a green-horn!" He slapped Michaels on the back, making the Private jolt. "Everybody on the team benefits. That's why it's a team! I'm the guy that patches you up, Phillips blows shit up, Sterling's the one who spots hostiles a mile off, and Marshall's the leader. You, well you're just a green-horn right now so we don't know what you can do."

"Well, I'm actually good with the designated marksman rifle. I also am a communications expert."

"So you're the one we call when we need to fix the radio?"

"I guess."

"Well there you go! Now you're essential to the group."

The entire crew laughed up a storm until they heard the words of their commanding officer.

"Attention!" Marshall commanded, making the members of his team stand up from the crates they were sitting on and standing completely still facing him. "At ease, Maximus. As you all know, in about two hours we are going to be touching base and scouting the area. However, Captain Reynolds has just informed me that our original orders have been redirected."

"What does that mean, sir?" Michaels asked.

"Reynolds has informed me that we are not the first team to have set foot on the ring. Two months ago, a small squad of ODSTs and SPARTAN-IVs were deployed to ensure the safety of its activation index of this ring. Unfortunately, we lost contact with them a week ago. Our directive is to head to their original camp and discover what happened."

"Any idea what we're facing, sir?" Sterling asked.

Marshall looked around at his men. "We aren't assuming any hostile threats currently, as communications were always tough to come by on the planet. However, we do believe that if it is an attack, then it might be a small branch of Covenant renegades. Worse case scenario would be that the team somehow got infected by the Flood."

Everyone seemed to gasp.

"Of course, we have no substantial evidence of that possibility. Nevertheless, I will advise you keep your helmets on at all times in case the Flood virus is airborne. Also, be on the lookout for a flying orb while we're there. It is believed to be the caretaker of the installation. If something bad has happened to the team it can tell us what happened."

"Sir, what happens if this is a Flood breakout?" Phillips asked.

"We have protocols as to what we will do with a Flood incursion. Activation of the ring, however, will not be an option. We have a human colony that has started development several light years away, and evacuations procedures would not be enough to save them all. Protocols would, however, including leaving us behind if it means the Flood do not manage to escape the ring."

"Would they actually do that, sir?"

"Only as a last resort." Marshall cleared his throat. "One last thing: Reynolds has approved a request from a particular individual onboard. They will be joining us on the ground to recover data for the Office of Naval Intelligence."

"With all due respect, sir," McMillan began. "we don't need a scientist on the planet to collect rock samples for those spooks up at ONI."

"We're not bringing a scientist onto the planet." Marshall spoke. "We're bringing a Spartan."

Michaels seemed to tip his head to the side at the mentioning of that. A Spartan? He had heard tales of the Spartans from some of the veterans back at basic training. They were nearly invincible soldiers who sacrifice everything to protect humanity. Many Spartans died during the war, and there were many memorials dedicated to them for their sacrifice.

"Who is he?"

"He's a SPARTAN-IV that goes by the designation 107. Otherwise, I've seen his file. Before joining the program he was an ODST that participated in important battles near the end of the war, including Reach, New Mombasa, Voi, and the Ark. For everyone but Michaels, that means every major battle we partook in. He's a Lieutenant-Commander so he will be leading the operation."

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted."

"That's bullshit. No one should replace you as commanding officer. Not even a Spartan."

Just as McMillan finished saying that, Michaels saw someone walking out of the shadows. His armor was blue with stripes of gold here and there, and his golden visor caught the Private's attention as his helmet was revealed. Its design was familiar, and it was only them that it was a standard Recon helmet he saw from some of the campaigning ads back home.

"Your commanding officer has given me permission to run this op." The Spartan spoke. "Aside from that, Captain Reynolds had the final say. You will follow my commands or you can stay on this ship in the brig. Make your choice."

His commanding voice made the group shudder, but none of them made a move or another argument.

"If that's all settled, you must be geared up and ready in two hours. No excuses, just results. One last thing, if nobody does anything stupid and you all follow my orders, we all make it out of this alive. We've all lost friends over the years and I don't think anyone's ready to join them."

"Yes, sir." The crew agreed.

"Good. Dismissed." The Spartan walked away from the group, leaving them all alone with their thoughts. Once he was sure their new commanding officer was out of earshot, McMillan turned towards Marshall.

"What the hell were you thinking?! You can't just have this guy in fancy-ass power armor take command of this team!"

"Like he said, the captain approved it. And his service record is excellent. I looked it over myself."

Phillips looked at Marshall. "So what's his story?"

"He's a veteran of the last few major battles of the war. His parents were killed during the evacuation of New Alexandria, and his brother had suffered severe injuries during the fighting. One of the Lieutenant's most brutal battles was during the Battle of New Mombasa. He endured traumatic injuries from a needler and continued to fight long enough to get his squad, along with three other squads, out of the city before the Covenant glassed it. Once the battle reached Voi he was back on his feet and ready to fight. He was also invaluable during the Battle of the Ark, taking out a Covenant super carrier from within with his squad."

"That sounds exciting." Sterling spoke enthusiastically.

"Otherwise, he's a mystery. Plenty of black ink aligned his records, but both ONI and the UNSC claim they didn't put it there. Even his name has been blotted out, although Reynolds claims he knows his first name, and said something about him only telling those he trusts his name."

"So is he a ghost or something?" McMillan asked.

"Far from it. He just prefers to keep his life private, according to Reynolds. In the heat of battle, he's a soldier. But outside of it he's a fine man. Reynolds doesn't know, however, where one ends and the other begins."

Michaels seemed to hum at that phrase. "What happened to his brother? You mentioned his parents are dead and that his brother was injured, but you didn't specify how much."

"His brother lost an arm during the fighting. After two weeks spent in a sort of coma his brother went through a few weeks of physical training and fought alongside his brother during the final battles. They apparently don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, though. His brother is also a Spartan, but I have no knowledge of where he is right now."

"Not that that's important." McMillan mumbled.

Marshall looked at McMillan. "Watch your tone, McMillan. Finish your drinks and get ready. We're deploying in two hours."

"You'll have your beer, too, right?" Sterling asked, holding an unopened bottle between her fingers.

"On-the-go, I'm afraid." He took the bottle from her hands. "Reynolds still needs me for a quick briefing with our Spartan commander."

"Good luck, then." Sterling waved as Marshall walked away.

"Still friendly with Gunny, Archer?" Phillips joked, getting a well-deserved punch from her.

"Shut your mouth, Bronco." Sterling walked away from them, going for her gear in the locker room.

"Bronco?" Michaels asked.

"Nicknames. We all get them from somewhere. I got Bronco because of my ability to wrestle an Elite to the ground. We call her Archer because she's a sniper. We just call Marshall Gunny because of his rank."

McMillan sat down on his crate. "And they call me Lucky because of my luck of the Irish."

"So you're the only one without a nickname, Michaels; aside from the Spartan, of course."

"Man, who cares about the Spartan." McMillan argued.

"Hey, lighten up. That guy's been through as much shit as us and more. Show him a bit of respect."

"Respect? That man is just a ghost in a tin suit thinking he's so special compared to us. Respect is earned from interaction, not from fucking stories."

"Lucky, you are this close to getting a fist shoved into your mouth."

Michaels placed himself in between the two men, trying to break up the ensuing fight. "Hey, knock it off, guys. We don't need to fight."

McMillan seemed to sigh before he walked off without a single word.

"What's his problem?"

"He's not so easily impressed. He takes his arguments too far, let me tell you. There have been plenty of times where he and Gunny damn near tore each other apart. Hopefully some time in the field will do him some good."

"Yeah, hopefully."

"Well, I better go make sure Big Bertha's all cleaned up."

"Big Bertha?"

"Yeah, my rocket launcher. She's a piece of beauty. We'll talk again later, okay?" He closed the cooler and walked out of the hanger, going for his weapon of choice.

Now Michaels stood all alone, and decided to go look for the Spartan. Something inside him told him it would be interesting to learn more about him before they deployed to the ring. Hell, maybe he'd find out they both want the ring destroyed in the hopes that it's never used for galactic genocide. And even if they wouldn't have the same opinion, learning about him all the same would still be nice.

With that thought, he walked out of the hanger in search of the Spartan that would help out on the mission.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I've sort of decided to work on another story because my brother has been producing chapters for his Halo fan fiction, which is connected to both this and my Halo one shot To Be Human. Check that out for a bit more info on the Spartan, and look up 900: A Halo Fanfiction by Domehead900 to get more info on past events, as well as more events that happen to his brother during and a bit after this story. Expect random updates whenever I decide to write. I'm thinking this will be around five-six chapters long. Reviews are appreciated, but please KEEP IT CLEAN.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Friendly Conversation

UNSC Frigate Spirit of Justice

Orbiting Installation 06, One hour and forty minutes until mission

Michaels had walked across the ship for twenty minutes looking for the mysterious Spartan, unsuccessfully finding the armored blue figure around. He checked the mess hall, communication room, reactor core, and the bridge. He then decided to head to the war room to see if he could find him at all. After all, where else could a Spartan have gone to be alone or to accept orders?

As it turns out, he was in the war room, being briefed by Captain Reynolds. Gunny was also being briefed alongside him, and their chatting stopped when they heard him approach.

"Something on your mind, Michaels?" Gunny asked.

"Not really. I was just a bit curious about out Spartan guest. I didn't realize he was still getting a briefing."

The Spartan merely nodded. "I like to make sure I get every ounce of knowledge required. It's necessary for me, seeing as I don't possess an Artificial Intelligence in my head." He tapped a key on the holopad. "Since you're here, you might as well get acquainted with the plan."

"Sure." Michaels stepped up to the table.

Captain Reynolds cleared his throat. "This is Installation 06, one of the legendary Halo arrays scattered across the galaxy. Aside from Installation 03, this is the only installation we've set foot on since the signing of the treaty with the Covenant."

"Why are we even stepping on the rings if the treaty states we can't?" Michaels asked.

"The treaty only applies to the first ring the Master Chief found. And even if the treaty stated none of us could step on any of the rings, this is a special case. The monitor guarding the ring, Imminent Tragedy 701, invited our first survey teams onto the ring, claiming he was missing company. Apparently, one of our own crash landed on the ring before the end of the Human-Covenant War. Private Adam Presley and his ship the Armor of Denial crashed into the ring, leaving him the only survivor of the crash. 701 managed to help him get off planet to reestablish contact with the UNSC, and we only happened to find his ship adrift in space a month ago, along with the coordinates to the ring."

"Where's Presley now?"

"Under medical care. The cryo unit onboard put him in a sort of coma. We're hoping to revive him soon once we understand what went wrong."

The Spartan enhanced the image. "A small team of scientists, ODSTs, and a SPARTAN-IV team called King was dispatched onto this part of the ring. Their orders were to secure the control room, collect any knowledge on the ring, and ensure there was no Flood contamination. We lost communication with them very recently. That's where you come in, Michaels. Our very first objective is reaching the camp. Once we're there, you're going to try to fix the communications. Then we immediately scout the area for any clue of the team's location. If Flood contamination has commenced, we'll order for an Orbital strike to take out as much opposition as possible."

"Mac rounds could harm the ring, though, right?"

"I'm not certain. It is likely, but if not we should be safe enough sending the Flood some heavy ordinance. Activation of the Halo ring, however, is not an option."

Reynolds nodded. "Agreed. Firing the Halo array would wipe out all human and Covenant life in this sector. Doing that may cause a panic, and we cannot risk it. Do whatever you have to do if the worst comes to pass."

Gunny set his hands down on the table. "Any questions before we wrap this up, Private?"

"Yeah, what if the problem with the communications is something I can't fix?"

"Then we'll boost the radio signal on our comms for lift-off and debriefing. You'll be carrying some useful tools for that job for worst-case scenarios only."

"If this is a Flood outbreak on the ring, how would we be able to kill them?"

"It's simple." The Spartan spoke. "Shoot them in the head."

"I doubt it's that easy."

"Trust me, it is. However, if the SPARTAN team is infected, it's probably better if you leave them to me. They're likely going to be stronger than the average Flood."

"You almost sound like you believe the situation is Flood contamination."

"I always expect the worst. If better cases end up happening, then I'm content with that."

Michaels scratched his head at that. "I guess I have no more questions about the mission."

"Then prep up for the mission as soon as possible. We'll be landing on the ring soon." The Spartan then departed from the room and Michaels immediately followed, catching up to him. "So, I was wondering what your story was."

The Spartan stayed quiet for a moment. "I figured your superior officer would have told you the whole story already."

"Yeah, but I want to hear it from your actual perspective."

The Spartan stopped at a door and opened it, stepping inside. Instead of closing the door, however, he offered Michaels a chance to come inside. "You really wanna hear the same bullshit story of my life? Then step inside. Otherwise, I don't have time to entertain you."

Michaels stepped inside and looked around. It was a small cabin with only one bed, a desk, and a light. An assault rifle was perched on the desk, alongside a pistol and a few grenades.

"So, what specifically do you want me to tell you, first?"

"Well, is everything in the file of yours true? Did you really fight through some of the last battles in the war?"

"I did. The fall of my home planet, the attack on New Mombasa, Voi, and I even saw the Ark before the Master Chief likely destroyed it. There's only one probable inaccuracy in the file about when I got needler injuries, but otherwise the tale's all true. I started my military career at eighteen, following my father's footsteps. I managed to join the ODSTs due to some other battles before Reach that aren't as recognized, and reached Sergeant before the attack on Reach. I've led countless men and women in a few small victories that might have had an actual impact in the war, but I've lost a lot of friends as well."

"How many?"

"Enough to know getting too attached can be a burden if you're not ready to handle that responsibility. And the only time I never feel ready is when my brother is involved."

"You mentioned your brother was a Spartan as well?"

"Yes, although he could have passed as a scientist. He secretly created an A.I. he calls Larry. The two of them are quite a pair."

"How'd he manage that?"

"I cannot say. He's a mathematical savant, and can hack through any computer system you can throw at him. He's also trained in heavy weapons including the Spartan Laser, as well as marksman weapons like the BR-55 Battle Rifle. His favorite style, however, is up-close with either a shotgun or his energy sword."

"He has an energy sword?"

"Yes. He keeps it as a prize, and a reminder of the harshness of Reach. He was affected badly by the loss of the planet, and more-so by the loss of our parents."

"Shit."

"You can say that again."

Michaels thought carefully of his next question. "I was wondering, do you know anything about a rumor about a 'Spartan-buster' project? I've heard things about how the UNSC is developing Spartan armors designed to take down other Spartans."

The Spartan merely looked at him for a moment. Michaels couldn't tell what he was thinking due to his Recon helm blocking his face, but soon after the silence was broken. "I cannot confirm or deny the existence of any said project. However, if such a project did exist, I can say the UNSC are making it efficient, deadly, and able to capture Brute Chieftains alive just as much as it could capture a Spartan. And if such project did exist, there's still a few bugs and glitches that'll likely keep it out of commission for a while."

"Uh, okay." Michaels shrugged, assuming he was to play along with the beating by the bush the Spartan had just pulled. "Why is it you keep your personal life hidden?"

Again, he was met with silence, but it was longer than the last time before he spoke again. "Have you ever seen the face of a warrior before?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question."

"The true face of a warrior is blank, nearly emotionless, much like this helmet I wear. It can convey emotion sometimes, yes, but otherwise it is always the same. The true face of a warrior is of stone. Blank. On the battlefield, that is what I am. I let logic and strategy drive me because emotion can hinder the success of the mission. That's not to say emotion is useless on the battlefield; in fact, my brother is a prime example that emotion can help making proper decisions. But decisions made out of anger can destroy a battle. That is why it is better for me to wear the face of a warrior in battle, but behind closed doors my emotions run deep. When I escaped Reach with my injured brother, I was locked in my room, crying until my eyes were bloodshot. The next day, I was myself again, wearing the face of a warrior. My brother doesn't understand why I do this, and why I feared for his safety when he joined my squad during the attack on New Mombasa. The reason my personal life is well-hidden is because I'm afraid that the wrong emotion will make me choose the wrong decision. I don't expect anyone to understand, but it is merely my way."

Michaels stayed quiet while he listened to the Spartan's tale. It was surprising and interesting to him. He suppressed his emotions because he wanted to be the best soldier out there, but behind closed doors he's just like the rest of the marines. "How exactly do you live like that?"

"It's easy to live like that when you accept that every new day can be your last alive. I thank God every night when I survive another day, but the next day I am prepared to die. And if I had to choose between dying for my men and having them die for me, I'd give my life for them every time. Unfortunately, that's never usually the case."

"Don't you ever think about living? Maybe starting a family?"

"Sometimes. But I have a long criteria of things I'd want in a wife. I've yet to meet the right girl, but there have been a few that did come close. None that I'm going to mention by name, however, for their privacy."

"I get that. No spreading gossip about your exes or anything."

"Exactly. Besides, I know at least one of them would kill me."

Michaels had to laugh at that phrase. "I guess I have one more question."

"Go ahead."

"What's it like being a Spartan?"

"It's like I'm continuing a legacy of soldiers willing to give their lives. Spartans have accomplished impossible feats that have helped turn the tide of the war, and to be asked to become one is a tremendous honor. Perhaps if you play your cards right one day you can be one, too." The Spartan stood up and went for his desk. "Now, we've got about fifty minutes until touchdown. I suggest you gear up, Private Michaels."

Michaels stood up and saluted the Spartan. "Yes, sir." He then headed out of the room and attempted to get back to the hanger to grab his gear. However, Lucky randomly popped up out of nowhere, startling the young Private.

"Chatting it up with the tin can?" He spoke harshly.

"We spoke, yes. He's actually not so bad once you get to know him."

"There's nothing to know about him. Spartans just follow orders and kill people. Nothing more."

"He's not just a Spartan. He's a man."

"He's a tin can that doesn't give two shits about anyone but his superiors and whatever orders they bark at him! Trust me, he'll kill us in order to get the job done."

Heavy footsteps behind Michaels indicated that the Spartan had appeared behind him and had likely heard what he said. "Corporal McMillan, you seem to misunderstand my purpose on this mission. My job is to collect data for ONI, yes, but my primary directive is always to protect those under my command and any who are in danger. So be careful of whom you make assumptions towards."

"Fuck off, tin can. I know what you Spartans are really like."

"And Captain Reynolds briefed me on why you act aggressive towards me. Your family was murdered on Arcadia by Covenant forces who glassed the planet in 2549. Spartans had been deployed but they never arrived to save your family, leaving you to fend for yourself when your entire unit was wiped out in a failed rescue mission. What you failed to realize is that the deployed SPARTAN-IIIs had all been slaughtered in a battle twenty kilometers away from your family's home. They never made it in time to save them."

Lucky's glare deepened before softening, showing off the Irishman's sorrow.

"So I want you to remember that I am not going to let you die just for the sake of grabbing something for ONI. The only reason any of you might die is if everything goes FUBAR down on the ground. But if we all stay together and you follow my orders, we'll all come back alive."

Lucky dropped out of his sorrowful look and snarled. "This doesn't change the fact that I find it bullshit that a tin can is leading us on the ground." Lucky turned around and walked away.

The Spartan shook his head. "The arrogance of fools can lead to their downfall."

"Did you really mean it when you said the Spartans on Arcadia were killed off?"

"I did, for it was the truth. Arcadia fell because the Spartans that were sent there were slaughtered. Corporal McMillan just didn't know. He'll come around or die trying. He's a good soldier, if not stubborn as a mule. Reminds me of my brother." The Spartan shook his head again for a moment before he walked past him. "Get your gear. The earlier you're ready, the better."

Michaels continued on to the hanger where he had left his ODST gear and DMR. Strapping it on as quickly as possible he was ready by the time Arrow came to check on him.

"You ready to go, Echo?"

"Echo?"

"Yeah, I figured you could use a nickname that goes with your skills. You're a communications major and a brilliant one at nineteen, so I thought Echo would be good."

Michaels thought about this for a moment before he chuckled. "All right. Echo sounds good."

"Good, because we're not going to change it." Archer smirked as she walked over to the pelican with a sniper rifle in her hands. Michaels simply laughed and joined her. Bronco and Lucky were already waiting at the pelican for the others to arrive. "Look out, boys. Echo's ready to go."

"Echo?" Bronco asked. "That's what you're calling him now?"

"Yep."

"Well, just don't start singing 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams' on us. Nobody on this team's ever alone."

"Don't worry. He won't."

Michaels nodded. "I'm not good at singing, either, so don't worry."

Bronco and Lucky laughed. Lucky's mood had apparently improved since the last time he saw him, but Michaels had his doubts it would stay that way. They all chatted for about fifteen minutes until the Spartan and Gunny approached the Pelican. By then, everyone had been ready to go. The Pelican was loaded up and preparing to launch a few minutes later. Everyone was kind of silent onboard as the Spartan readied the vehicle.

The flight down was even quieter, save for the noises the Pelican itself made. Lucky was seated across from Michaels, while Archer and Gunny sat beside him. None of them were talking, and their helmets didn't reveal many details. Gunny kept his shotgun close, loading in shell after shell. Archer was messing with her scope while Gunny kept looking at the cockpit. Bronco seemed the least interested in anything onboard. Otherwise, Michaels was the only one that seemed nervous about what was to come.

The minutes, however, seemed to just disappear as they landed on the Halo ring.

"The pelican stays here in case of evac." The Spartan spoke. "We all know what to do, so keep your eyes peeled, your ears sharp, and your minds clear. Leave nothing to chance."

"We don't need the lecture, Spartan." Lucky snapped as he exited the pelican. This garnered no emotion from the Spartan whatsoever, which was expected. The rest of the team stepped out one at a time onto the ring. The surrounding area looked strange. The entire ring was meant to be gray throughout many of the areas, but there was some green in this area. In fact, there was a lot of green. Grass and trees stood out everywhere, and that aroused suspicion from the group.

"The reports said there was little to no plant life on this ring." Gunny spoke. "But here - it looks like we landed in a goddamn forest."

"Irrelevant." The Spartan spoke. "The camp is about two clicks from here. Let's move so we can assess the situation."

Michaels continued looking around as everyone else started following the Spartan along. Only Bronco remained alongside him for a moment longer.

"Something wrong, Echo?"

"I'm not sure." He admitted. "This Halo array just gives me the creeps. I mean it does house the most dangerous parasite the galaxy has ever faced."

"Which should still be secured by the caretakers of this ancient relic. Don't worry. You'll see that everything is all right."

"Maybe, but to take something from the Spartan's playbook, it's probably best to expect the worst."

"That's just paranoia talking. Now come on. That radio tower isn't going to fix itself." Bronco then left, leaving Michaels with his thoughts for a bit longer. He continued to scan the trees a moment longer, unsure as to what he was looking for, but just a bit sure that there was something to these woods that felt... Unnatural. Whatever it was, however, was something that could be focused on later. He needed to catch up to the group and standing alone in the forest wasn't going to help matters. So he looked at his radar on the HUD, but something was amiss. The radar showed multiple hostiles, which shouldn't be real because there was no one in front of him. Maybe it was a threat from underground, but radars don't really pick those up too often. Michaels looked around for any signs of hostile activity, but nothing showed up.

_"Echo, you get lost?" _Gunny spoke on the radio. _"Get your head out of the clouds and catch up to us."_

Michaels took one last look around before breaking into a sprint away from the area, unaware of the disfigured being that fell out from camouflage moments later, snarling an inhuman sound from its deformed face.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, that's another chapter up. I took a bit longer deciding on throwing in the cliffhanger there, so that's one of the reasons it took a bit longer to throw out. Anyways, though, I hope this chapter gave you more insight into my Spartan's personality and character. The next chapter is going to focus more on the other characters while they try to solve the mystery of what happened on the ring. Reviews are welcome, and remember KEEP IT CLEAN. ;-)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2: The Wrong Warning

The group had spent a half hour walking through the jungle to reach the outpost set up by the survey team. Already overhead they could see the quickly set up shacks the team had landed with, so they knew how close they were. Bronco asked if they could take a break, but Gunny brushed it off, saying that they could rest once they reached the camp. It didn't take them that long after that.

Michaels looked around with his DMR carefully, noticing just how barren the camp looked. There was nobody around at the camp to greet them, no signs of any actual battle or event that would stir up the camp, and most importantly no bodies or blood. It was as if they vanished. It was a bit unsettling.

"Anyone see anything?" Michaels asked.

"Nothing." Bronco spoke.

"Not a goddamn thing." Lucky added.

"Clear on my end." Archer stated, keeping an eye behind them in case someone were to sneak up on them.

"Looks like no one's home." Gunny spoke. "What do you think, Spartan?"

"I think they could have tried investigating one of the ancient structures. Perhaps they went to find a map to the Index of this Installation. That's best case scenario."

"Do I dare ask about the worst case scenario?"

"Maybe it's better if you didn't."

"Right." Gunny sighed. "I recommend you and I investigate the surrounding area. Echo will take care of investigating the communications tower. Archer will be our lookout while Lucky and Bronco attempt to scrounge the camp for anything useful. Sound good, Spartan?"

The Spartan turned towards Gunny. "Sounds good. We'll sweep the perimeter and radio in twenty for a progress update." He turned to the rest of the company. "Echo, find the tower and discover what's going on. If you manage to solve the problem, radio the captain and let him know we currently have found the campsite empty. If we update before twenty, add those details in the report. Everyone move out."

Archer headed to find higher ground to keep a lookout for the camp. Lucky and Bronco immediately took off to find some supplies in some of the buildings. The Spartan headed towards the forest again with Gunny, leaving Michaels to his thoughts. He looked around to see if he could find any sign of the communications tower, and smiled when he saw one of the mobile antennas used for communication with the UNSC. He ran in that direction to get to work immediately. From the looks of it the antennae was still functional, as no damage had been done to it, however it was definitely off. Even the control panel next to it wasn't working.

"I wonder if it was unplugged, or maybe it ran out of power." Michaels thought out loud, looking for any power cables that lay on the ground. He found it and wandered along the path it formed. The cable didn't look frayed or cut so far, but it was always possible that would change as he reached the end. Soon enough, the cable did end behind one of the bunkers. It had been unplugged at some point.

Right next to it was a blood pool and a severed arm.

Fear immediately kicked into Michaels' thoughts before disgust at the smell of rotten flesh made his insides churn. He resisted the urge to vomit but only by so much, catching his breath quickly before activating his radio.

"Sergeant, I found the source of the loss of communications. The tower was unplugged."

_"So plug it back in and contact the captain."_

"There's more, though. There's-" He paused for a moment, trying hard not to whimper. "There's a severed arm and a pool of blood next to it."

_"You wanna run that by me again, Private?"_

"I said there's a severed arm next to the cable. There's also a pool of blood but not much else."

_"Shit. The Spartan and I will investigate it once we return from sweeping the area. See if you can still get that radio tower running. We need to report this to the captain."_

"Aside from the cable being covered in blood it should still work. I'll have it ready in a few, if I can stand the smell, that is."

_"Just be thankful that's not a flood corpse. Those smell worse."_

Michaels had to laugh at that, which boosted his confidence a bit more. He took the sleeve off of the arm and used that to clean off as much of the blood from the cable as he could. Once the cable looked clean enough to use he replugged it in, hearing the tower power up from far away.

"Now we're in business." Michaels stated as he threw the bloody sleeve on the ground, picking up his DMR and heading back over to the radio tower. There was mostly static coming from the radio at the moment, but after a few tweaks to the dials he had it working again. Without hesitation he established contact with the Spirit of Justice.

"Captain Reynolds, this is Private Michaels of Fire Team Maximus. Do you read?"

_"We hear you, Private Michaels. Glad to hear the tower's transmitting again."_

"The radio tower had been unplugged from the main building. But everyone here is currently missing, save for a guy's arm next to the tower's power cable."

_"Come again, Private? Did you say someone's _arm _was near the power cable?"_

"Affirmative, sir. I don't know who's arm it is, but there wasn't a body with it. That's the only troubling thing we seem to have found so far. Sergeant Marshall and Spartan 107 are currently performing a sweep through the forest. It's possible they might stumble upon the rest of the poor bastard."

_"This is bad if you actually managed to find blood. Report to me again if you manage to find anything more. Reynolds out."_ The communication was cut and Michaels looked around, deciding to investigate the building the cable was connected to. It was a large bunker that likely powered the camp, but it could have also been the command post to the camp. Whatever it was, no one else had been near it. Maybe someone was still in it, or perhaps left clues to where everyone else was.

Michaels opened the door to the bunker and looked around the darkened room, keeping his rifle up. He had no plans on someone or something sneaking up on him. And it turns out he needn't have worried. The room was devoid of life, and had the power to the inside shut off. Michaels flipped the switch and turned the lights on, also activating the war table and the monitor on the far wall. They lit up with the usual UNSC logo before revealing a few recordings by Doctor Alan Murphy, who Michaels guessed was one of the scientists. Without thinking he played the first log, dated twenty-two days old.

_"This is the log of Doctor Alan Murphy, head scientist here at Installation 06. We have officially begun our survey of the area. We have no idea why this area is so green compared to the rest of the ring, and we always found that curious. Whatever the case, the scientists are collecting samples from the trees. Meanwhile, the ODSTs and Spartans have taken it upon themselves to discover the surrounding area. They are hoping to find a Cartographer to find the location of the ring's Index. Should the Covenant remnants attempt to take the ring, we do not want them to have access to the activation systems. Even so, we would require it in case the unthinkable happens. I shudder to even think about it."_

Michaels went and clicked on the next log, more focused on what Dr. Murphy had to say rather than what was happening with everyone else.

Within the forest, Gunny scoped the surrounding area heavily. After the mentioning of the severed arm he was more wary of the possibilities. It could have been the Covenant remnants or worse the Flood, but he was hoping it wasn't that last one. If it was the absolute worst case scenario his crew wasn't prepared to actually combat it. Most of them hadn't encountered Flood themselves; Michaels especially, given he was a raw recruit. How would they really be able to combat them if they didn't know how? What would happen if they were to get torn apart right in front of them? Gunny couldn't stand the thought.

He had lost too many good men to the Flood already.

_"Gunny, check your sensors." _The Spartan spoke, snapping him out of his nostalgia.

Gunny looked at his HUD's sensors and blinked his eyes in disbelief. "It says there's multiple contacts right in front of us. That can't be right. There's nothing in front of me."

_"Keep an eye out. We might be dealing with a Covenant Spec-Ops, or worse a Spartan."_

"How is that worse?"

_"A Spartan wouldn't need to hide unless he considers us the enemy."_

Gunny now looked around furiously, waiting for an invisible foe to strike. The red beacons were still going off everywhere, leaving Gunny with no clue where an attack would come from. Would a Covenant sniper try to kill him from the trees or stab him from behind? Would the Spartan snap his neck in an instant?

The red dots finally disappeared, revealing a friendly IFF tag right behind him. He would have probably breathed happily had a loud clicking noise not been made behind him.

Michaels had flipped through the first few logs to find himself being bored. There was nothing too interesting about them since they were just reports about setting up the camp. He wasn't sure why he should continue, but he decided to click on the log marked for eleven days ago.

_"We have made a strange discovery. Spartan Team King discovered the Cartographer in a data research center in the mountains. It has pointed us in the direction of the Index, and we shall all head there tomorrow. But there was also a message that the research center had caught. We examined it here and it appeared to be a message from a member of the human race. This confused us for multiple reasons. First, it was within the systems for hundreds of thousands of years. Second, it mentions the destruction of Earth and the extinction of humanity. Third, it was marked in an archive of great importance to the Forerunners. None of it adds up. We made a copy of it and brought it here for further study, but we aren't going to bother with it for now. Even though I shudder to think about what 'Abel' said, we have more pressing matters. The Index must be secured. Nothing else matters."_

The message ended and Michaels looked to see the file Murphy had mentioned. What was so disturbing about it? He hovered over it and activated it. On the screen was a young man with white hair and white clothes. His eyes were a pale blue and his face held a look of sorrow.

_"BEN, are we transmitting?" _The man asked.

_"Yes, sir." _A synthetic voice spoke.

The man sighed. _"My name is Abel, and I am the last human alive. Earth and all of her colonies have been destroyed. Humanity tore at each other until our own corruption led to my brother Cain destroying every living human being with the use of EDEN's Orbital Defense Networks. The final casualty rate from this traitorous act is seventy trillion, four-hundred fifty-two billion, nine hundred eighty-one million, seven hundred forty-one thousand, eight-hundred nineteen human deaths, combined with the one-hundred and seven million lost during the Final War at it's near-end. Cain believed the human race was beyond saving, and decided to ignore all possible options for peace before he activated every Defense and used their arsenal to crack the planets in half, obliterating them from existence. In the end, I was forced to kill him before he could kill me. Now I am all alone."_

_"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?" _The synthetic voice spoke again.

_"Yes. That is why I send this message through the Great Rift. I hope that humanity will receive this from a time before the war to heed my words. We must unite to a common cause: to create a future where every human being can look at one another and treat him with respect no matter his race, gender, religion, sexuality, or culture. We must look to a future where all of our evolutionary progress leads to our golden age, where men release themselves from the hold of greed and corruption. We must look to a future where dictators and tyrants hold no power over mankind, and where no weapons of mass destruction are used to destroy those who refuse to follow. In the Gospel of Luke 17, it states that the Kingdom of God is within mankind. Not one man or one group but in ALL men. That is something you can accomplish for us. You could be the one to prevent our annihilation. I only ask that you spread my warning so that history may not be doomed to repeat itself. Good luck. Transmission end."_

Michaels was hesitant at the strange message. What did Abel mean that humanity and Earth were destroyed? Everyone on Earth is still alive; _he _was still alive. Where did this message come from, and if it was intercepted by the Forerunners how long has it been here?

_"Echo," _Archer's voice came up over the radio. Her tone was that of shock. _"Gunny and the Spartan are returning to camp! Something's wrong with them!"_

"Slow down. What's going on?"

_"I think Gunny's been hurt. You have to help them! You're the closest to their location!"_

"All right, I'll check it out."

_"Hurry!"_

Michaels ran out of the communications bunker and headed towards the two blue dots on his radar. His DMR was in hand and he was ready to see what was going on. As he came to the edge of the forest, he saw the Spartan carrying Gunny by one arm while holding his pistol with the other. Gunny's armor was in disrepair; a large slash mark was made across the chest piece, revealing some torn flesh underneath. Gunny appeared to have been losing blood, and he also appeared to be fainting.

Two grotesque creatures were pursuing them.

"Get down!" Michaels yelled as he took aim at the closest creature. The Spartan and Gunny fell low as Michaels fired five consecutive shots at the closest creature. All shots were aimed at the head and managed to actually stall the creature, knocking it to the ground and hopefully killing it. He took aim at the second one before the Spartan held Gunny towards him.

"Take him!" The Spartan commanded. Against his better judgment Michaels obeyed, catching his near-dead sergeant in his arms. Once that was done, he saw the Spartan pull out an interesting item from his thigh guard. He hadn't clipped a weapon on his left side and when Michaels had originally seen his left side there didn't appear to be any mechanisms that opened a hidden panel like that. It appeared to be a handle to a traditional Japanese Katana from ancient times. As the Spartan spun around to face his foe, a blade of blue energy sprung to life as both of his hands lay upon the grip.

The Spartan now faced his opponent and swung the energy blade at the creature's grotesque arm, which appeared to be shaped like a claw. The blade cut through it like butter, severing the arm from the creature's body. The creature emitted a howl of agony before the Spartan finished it off, chopping it into bits with swift strikes. A pile of decaying meat lay on the floor in front of him. When that was settled, he had deactivated the blade and set it back into his secret mechanism, storing it away from prying eyes like a secret that he must protect from fools and evil geniuses.

"Gunny!" Bronco yelled as he and Lucky finally managed to get to the three of them. "What happened, boss?"

Gunny only groaned in response.

"Get him to the infirmary. He needs medical attention now." The Spartan commanded, still looking in the direction of the forest. Lucky and Bronco took Gunny off of Michaels' hands, carrying their superior to the medical bunker established nearby. Archer had left her post and looked at Michaels.

"What happened?"

Michaels was kind of at a loss of words. He wasn't sure how to reply to what he had seen.

"Damn it, Echo! Tell me what happened!" She yelled, desperation in her voice.

The Spartan spoke first. "He was ambushed. I managed to rescue him but he's injured."

"Oh, shit." She spoke, dread flooding through her.

"There may be more of them coming, but for the moment we are safe." He spoke calmly. "Head back to your post. After I radio the captain I'll take watch in the tower so you can visit the Sergeant."

Archer nodded silently, which Michaels took as a bad sign. She walked back to the tower in silence, leaving him alone with the Spartan.

"Does this look as bad as it looks?" He asked.

"The captain needs to be warned. We have a worst-case scenario on our hands." He simply said as he turned from the forest and walked to the communications tower. Michaels looked back at the corpses, glad they were no longer moving. "And Michaels," he heard the Spartan speak behind him. "good shot. You just killed your first Flood victim."

About two hours had passed since then. Michael and Bronco had gathered over a campfire as the sun set. They had removed their helmets and had started to grill up some provisions like they were camping under the stars. They barely spoke about anything, but Bronco had mentioned Gunny's condition. He had been treated fast enough to stop infection, but he had lost quite a bit of blood. Luckily, there were transfusions available, but they still haven't been able to wake him. Hopefully he would pull himself through this, but Michaels was having doubts about that.

"Has Gunny ever been wounded like this before?" He finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Not like this. He and Archer actually fought the Flood at the end of the war, but they were lucky not to get hit. This time was different, however. You got a good look at those freaks. What'd they look like?"

"I don't know. Like any usual Flood, probably. Gross to look at, had appendiges turned to weapons, the creepy aura around them. They pretty much fit the nightmares."

"Did they use guns?"

"They didn't have any."

"Most of them do. There were some that didn't so that's not unusual. I just hope we can handle it."

As he finished that, the Spartan had appeared out of nowhere. "Lucky radioed ahead that Gunny is awake. We're meeting at the infirmary to discuss the conversation I had with Captain Reynolds. The situation's rather urgent."

Michaels and Bronco pulled their cooked meals off of the sticks they used and set them onto plates before following the Spartan to the infirmary. When they went inside, they found Gunny sitting up on his bed. His entire chest was bandaged up and there was a bit of blood still on the bandages. His arm was connected to an IV giving him the blood transfusion. Archer was sitting in the chair next to his bed. Her face revealed tear streaks that must have ended at least an hour ago, and her eyes were red. Lucky was standing up next to Gunny, checking to see if his handy work would hold up.

"How are you feeling, Sergeant?" The Spartan asked.

"Lucky does good work. I'll still need to rest up but I'll live thanks to you."

Lucky rolled his eyes in annoyance, but nobody seemed to care.

"So, what did command say about our situation?"

The room was quiet for a moment, making everyone sense that the Spartan did not have good news.

"Our orders have changed. We now have to find the Index before we leave the ring."

Lucky was the first to respond. "Are you fucking kidding me?! We have to get out of here and bomb the forest from orbit!"

"These orders come from the top. Both the UNSC and ONI have declared that the Index is needed. Commander Taylor, my superior, had to tell me that himself. That means the chain of command found Fire Team King's mission to be too important to abandon."

"So they're willing to sacrifice our lives and send us to the slaughter for _their _personal gain?!" Lucky walked away and slammed his fist into a wall.

"Quit acting like my brother and leave the poor wall alone." The Spartan said without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If we can find out where the Index is and recover it fast, we can escape quickly and have Command bombard this whole forest if it means the Flood don't get away. But for now, we have to keep calm and discover where the Index is."

Michaels raised a hand. "There were a number of journal entries and coordinates in the Communications office. Maybe one of them has the correct location of the Index. We can take the Pelican and fly there tomorrow, all of us."

"Sounds like a plan, Echo." Gunny spoke. "You're breaking your green status quickly."

"Thank you, sir."

"Go check out these coordinates and see what you can find. When you have the coordinates to the library upload them to the pelican. We can fly first thing in the morning. For now, however, we need someone to keep watch, in case more of those things come here."

"I'll take watch." The Spartan spoke, heading out the door.

"All right. Everyone else should finish your business and get some rest. Keep one eye open, though, in case more of those things appear."

Michaels headed back over to the communications bunker and opened the door. The terminal was still open on the strange transmission the last team had found. He plugged in his memory drive from his helmet and downloaded the message, along with the given coordinates to multiple locations. He sifted through the coordinates until he found the ones that matched the Library's location, forwarding them to the navigation computer onboard their pelican.

"That's all taken care of." He smirked, exiting the bunker. Michaels looked to see the Spartan standing on the tower silently, alone atop the large platform. Making an impulse decision he decided to join him, taking the short trek over to his position and climbing up to join him. The Spartan didn't turn to face him, but he must have noticed him come up.

"Found the coordinates?"

"Yep. I forwarded them to the Pelican's computer. Hopefully we can get this Index thing and go. The Flood are ugly-"

"And tough."

"You ever fought them before?"

"A few times, yes."

"Was it during the Battle of the Ark?"

"Yes."

"I was curious. Where did you get that energy weapon you used earlier? The one that looked like a Katana?"

"My brother created it specifically for me. It was a gift, of sorts. It's coded to my DNA so only I can wield it, which makes it a valuable tool. I don't always use it, but when I do it's in extreme scenarios. Once I actually used it against my brother, though that was kind of in defense about as much as offense."

"Why?"

"That's mostly classified. All I can say is he and I were truly pushed towards our limits. I was tasked to bring him in and he had to rebel. He wasn't a criminal and he was out to prove his innocence. Commander Taylor sent me after him because he believed I could either reason with him, and if I couldn't then I would do my duty."

"Did you bring him in, even though he was innocent of whatever classified thing he was accused of?"

"No. He and I stopped the ones who framed him, and that was that. Taylor was still furious, but the UNSC had cleared my brother's name. He's serving elsewhere at the moment."

"Can I see your blade?"

The Spartan turned towards him, as if he was trying to decide. Finally, he opened his secret compartment and pulled out the handle. Michaels slowly took it and examined it, noticing the craftsmanship that was put into it. It looked like an actual Katana grip, with the traditional design and everything. There were even symbols carved into it, and an engraving at the bottom that said, "The Soldier, The Machine, The Brother."

"It's beautiful, but what does the description mean?"

"It's how my brother sees me. Being a soldier is natural to me, but he always comments how in battle I almost act like a machine. But despite all that, he knows I'm still his brother, even though he might not show his exception of me up front. I've done a lot for him over the years, even when he was angry at me. This was a sign of appreciation, and one that has served me well."

Michaels handed it back, watching as the Spartan placed it back into his special compartment.

"I have another question. Do you know if the UNSC are working on a weapon called the EDEN Orbital Defense Network?"

"What's that supposed to be?"

"I don't know. I just heard about it."

"No, the UNSC isn't working on anything like that. I don't know where you hear about these things, but whoever's been filling your head with rumors of special UNSC and ONI projects is obviously trying to pull your leg."

Michaels kept quiet. Whenever that message was sent out it wasn't from this year, or perhaps even century. He wasn't absolutely certain, but he was sure the current human population wasn't near seventy million since the Covenant wiped out billions of humans in the war. This only made him wonder more about the mysterious message.

"You should get some sleep. You may be needed on guard duty soon and you'll need to be rested."

"Okay." Michaels said hesitantly as he retreated down to the ground, headed for the bed bunks nearby. All along the way, and throughout the night, a sense of foreboding flooded through him. He was sure something bad was going to happen soon because of this strange warning and the presence of the Flood. Now only question ran through his mind at the moment:

Were they all going to die on this ring?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finished another chapter here. In case you're wondering, the strange transmission is connected to a special idea of mine that goes beyond fan fiction, and would be its own thing. Why it's in the story is meant to be a mystery, but have fun trying to solve it. A reminder to check out Domehead900's story 900: A Halo Fanfiction for more on 107's past, and the adventures his brother goes through. Next chapter's going to be all about the Index, and shit's about to go down.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Outcome

Michaels had taken the last watch out of the four of them, since Gunny still had to rest. He was free to join them recover the Index, but Lucky told him to rest for the night so he didn't perform the night watch. He yawned profusely through his shift, keeping an eye out for any signs of the Flood. Thankfully, the entire night had been quiet, and they had no run-ins with the Flood. As thankful as they were, however, they found it strange. They thought that the Flood would have brought more of their friends over to fight them, but nothing happened. That likely meant the ones they fought were just scouts that didn't manage to report back.

The sun finally peered out and Michaels smiled. Moments later everyone else was getting up and picking up food from the mess hall to eat before they departed. Gunny's armor had to be replaced due to the large scratch on it, but otherwise he looked fine. Michaels suspected he was still in pain, but if he was he didn't show it. Gunny must have been one tough son of a bitch.

"You better eat quickly." Bronco spoke, catching Michaels' attention. "The sooner we get the Index, the sooner we can leave this ring."

"Right." Michaels began to eat his oatmeal faster, scooping up large spoonfuls and shoving them in his mouth.

"Not so fast. You still need to enjoy the food, not inhale it."

"Sorry." Michaels slowed down, looking around to see what everyone else was doing as he ate. Archer and Gunny were sitting near each other closely... almost a bit too closely. Brock caught him staring at them and chuckled.

"They were definitely once an item." He stated. "Must have been before Lucky or I joined. I hear the two of them fraternized constantly. Command didn't punish them, but one of them broke it off gently. Seems like they never got over each other."

"Interesting." Michaels noted. Looking away from them he saw Lucky polishing his shotgun.

"Lucky's had that shotgun for a long time, apparently. He named it Mirabelle. Treats it like it's his wife or something."

"Why do you guys name your weapons?"

"People get attached to things, people, places; it just happens. I betcha there's some crazy person out there who's attached to an Uggnoy, or a Halo ring."

"That would be incredibly weird." Michaels spoke. Lucky seemed to catch notice of their staring and glared. His red mustache twitched making the both of them tense. They turned away to give him privacy. The only one who wasn't in the room was the Spartan. He had taken his bowl and stepped outside, leaving the group to themselves. "Why do you think the Spartan left?"

"Probably because he's a loner. I've heard plenty of things about him. He's lost so many under his command he rarely acts like a normal human being. He might even have PTSD for all I know. I wouldn't blame him."

"So why does he continue fighting?"

"Maybe he feels it's his responsibility to. Lots of people try to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, even when it is not required of them. He could believe it's his job to fight the battles he thinks others can't."

"Maybe." Michaels scooped up the last of his oatmeal and ate it, dropping the spoon into the bowl before getting up and putting his dishes in the sink. "I'm going to look for him."

"Go ahead. He mainly talks to you. You might get more out of him than us."

Michaels headed out of the mobile mess hall building and looked around the camp. There wasn't any sign of him outside, so he decided to check the primary command center. He opened the door to see the Spartan sitting down. His back was turned towards him and his helmet rested upon the table next to him. His bowl was on the opposite side, and the Spartan was barely moving. The only noticeable feature Michaels could make out of him was his short hair. It was a light shade of brown cut short in the front and completely buzzed in the back. An implant was presently attached to his skull, although what he used it for was unknown. Beyond that, Michaels couldn't see anything else, not without moving around and possibly startling the Spartan. As soon as he thought of that, however, the Spartan had grabbed his helmet and slid it onto his head, covering up his face once more.

"You can stop staring now." He spoke rather plainly.

"You noticed me?"

"Your footsteps aren't very quiet, even with my augmented hearing."

Michaels stepped inside. "Augmented hearing?"

"I had some surgery done to heighten my senses some time ago. After the final battles, some of my injuries were affecting my senses, so Dr. Michele, a family friend, helped me out with an experimental surgery. It was a success, and Commander Taylor was pleased at the results. He thinks I'll be a better soldier than I was before."

"Is that what you want to be? A better soldier?"

The Spartan stood up. "What I want to be is irrelevant to what I need to be."

"What do you need to be, then?"

"A leader, a soldier, a guardian. I've always held onto the belief that one should protect those he feel are weaker than himself. You're a current example. This is your first mission and already you're facing off against things that aren't in your control."

"I don't need protection. I can handle myself."

"You killed one Flood scout. You haven't tried facing off an entire horde like I have. I know you aren't ready to truly face off against the dangers of the Flood. I fought them as a man leading those he cared about into hopeless battle. Not only that, but I lost some of those men and women in that fight." He seemed to pause, and Michaels wondered if he had heard a hint of regret in his words. "It changes you; to see those you considered brothers and sisters getting turned into those abominations. The worst thing is there hasn't been a true cure to Flood infection. The parasite claims them too fast, even as they remain alive in agony during the transformation."

Michaels felt his stomach churn and the oatmeal he just ate threatening to escape back out of his mouth.

"You're a little too squeamish, Michaels." The Spartan spoke, noticing Michaels' reaction. "Steer yourself, for if that gets in the way during another encounter with the Flood, you won't be able to come home."

Michaels held back, but then frowned. "How do you do that? How do you just shut off your emotions and act like you don't care?"

"When you live a life like mine, you begin to understand things. You realize that no one is ever safe in the art of war, that you should lead by example, and that sometimes shutting yourself out of the emotional side is the only way you'll make it through the day. I've learned all that through personal experience, kid. One day you will learn the same lessons." The Spartan walked around him, exiting the bunker. "We head for the Pelican in ten minutes. Get your weapons and as much spare ammo as you can carry. We're likely going to have our hands full."

Michaels continued to watch as the Spartan kept walking. The way he walked intrigued him. It was the way he made himself look humble as well as serious as he marched. How can one man ever live two very different lives at once? More importantly, how is he still standing after all of this? Could he really just believe he's the only one who can protect everyone even though it weighs him down? Or is there something more to the Spartan than meets the eye?

"Quit standing around, Michaels." Lucky's voice broke his train of thought. "We have to get to the Pelican and get this goddamn mission done."

Michaels nodded and followed suite, grabbing his guns and stocking up on extra ammunition. When he was finished, the whole team went and started their trek back to the Pelican. It took them a half an hour and throughout that time they caught no sight of any more of the Flood. The Pelican ride there was mostly quiet. Michaels was still lost in his thoughts about the Spartan, as well as the strange transmission he had found. Lucky and Bronco were doing most of the talking onboard, and the Spartan was flying so he didn't say much.

"So, Echo," Lucky finally spoke. "I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"When you killed that first Flood creature you came in contact with, were you afraid? Were you shaking in your boots?"

"The adrenaline kicked in around then. I just ended up pulling the trigger five times and 'bam!' It's dead."

"Did you see it fall apart? Some of the grosser ones tend to do that."

"No."

"Good, because you look like a lightweight."

"Hey." Michaels scowled. Lucky ended up laughing at his reaction, but it was cut short when the Spartan spoke on the intercom.

_"Our ride's about to end. The structure with the Index is within sight. Lock and load, people. We touch down in thirty seconds."_

Michaels slipped his helmet back on and readied his DMR. Everyone else did the same, and they all stood up ready to jump out. The Pelican landed onto a small platform and the exit hatch was opened. Michaels stepped out first followed by Lucky, then Bronco and Gunny, and Archer. The Spartan exited after the Pelican was deactivated.

"Echo, Lucky, takes positions on both sides of the door." The Spartan commanded, getting a grunt from Lucky and a nod from Michaels as they headed for the door. As they approached Michaels noticed his HUD giving off red pings.

"We got hostiles on the other side of the door."

"As I suspected." The Spartan stepped over to the door's switch panel. "All right. I'm opening the door. When it's open, toss a few grenades in there. We're likely dealing with the Flood spore carriers." He pressed the button and the door jolted open immediately. As soon as that happened, Lucky and Michaels tossed in two grenades, taking cover as they exploded. Once the place had settled, the two of them headed in first, followed by the Spartan and Bronco. Gunny and Archer covered the rear of the group, looking around on the walls and the ceiling for any signs of Flood activity.

"We seem to be clear so far." Bronco spoke. "There's no friend or for pings on my HUD."

"Stay alert." The Spartan followed. "They like to stay dormant sometimes. We might not be catching movement, but that doesn't mean they aren't here."

"Wonderful." Lucky spoke sarcastically. He then heard a loud squishing sound and looked at his boot. He had stepped in what he had to guess was Flood guts. "Blah. Echo, don't look down now, but we are definitely in Flood territory now."

Of course, Michaels ended up doing the opposite and looked at the floor, noticing the mess on Lucky's boot. "Ew."

"No time to complain. Just keep walking." Lucky continued onward, leading the group into the center of the structure. It was a large central area that had a floating pad on it at least a hundred feet in the air. Below it was a large box-shaped artifact floating below it. Lucky whistled. "That's a large height. I didnt bring a jetpack so does anybody have a clue on how we get up there?"

The Spartan attached his rifle to his back and ran up an inclined structure, jumping off and launching a thruster pack to increase him momentum. He landed on top of a small spire close by before turning and facing the group.

"Happy I came along now, Lucky?"

Lucky grumbled as the Spartan continued his climb up the spires and platforms to reach the top. Gunny and Bronco decided to investigate around the area in case there was any danger hiding in the shadows. Lucky seemed to agree with them and went his own way. Archer and Michaels were left alone, watching as the Spartan climbed higher.

"So," Michaels started, deciding to start a conversation, "are you and Gunny close."

"We aren't _that _close, but we were before." She simply replied. "It's all in the past. I saw you watching us this morning, Echo."

"I would have been surprised if you didn't, given your position as the sniper."

"Well I did."

They heard a loud sound and looked up to see that the Spartan had reached the top, activating the lift as it slowly sank down. The box followed along with it, and soon enough the platform had reached the bottom. Michaels walked to join the Spartan as the device began to open, slowly revealing the Index inside. When it finally popped out the Spartan grabbed it and pulled it out gently. Michaels looked at the Index. It looked like a T and it had a green glow to its sides.

"That's the Index?" Michaels asked.

"It is." The Spartan acknowledged. "Such a small contraption controls the fate of every living being in the universe. It's at least a good thing the Index can only be used by humans now."

"Why can we use it?"

"Because you are Reclaimers." An unfamiliar voice spoke, startling Michaels as he jumped away. When he came face to face with the stranger, however, he was baffled. It was a flying orb with a noticeable eye right in front of it. "Greetings, Reclaimers. I am Imminent Tragedy 701. I am the caretaker of this installation, and I welcome you like I did the others."

"The others?"

"Yes. Well, the others who had survived the initial Flood assault. They came here like you did for the Index, but the Flood had somehow managed to find this place and infect many others here. The survivors said they were going to their camp to call for reinforcements, but unfortunately the Flood got to them as well. Now you're here."

"How did the Flood even manage to take over the ring?" The Spartan asked.

"Well, it turns out the crash of your people's vessel, the UNSC Armor of Denial, had crashed on top of one of the holding facilities of the Flood spore. I had thought the situation had been contained, but soon discovered I was wrong. In fact, I came here to warn you about the Plague-carriers."

"Plague-carriers?" The Spartan asked before he heard Gunny screaming. "What was that?"

"Oh, dear." The monitor whimpered. "It appears one of your companions found one."

"We gotta help him!" Michaels yelled, running towards the area where Gunny had screamed. As he turned the corner, however, he saw a large grotesque creature standing in front of him. In it's claws was Gunny, still alive but unable to move. A large bubble next to Gunny's head burst, sending Flood spores through his cracked visor. The others turned the corner in time to see Gunny unceremoniously tossed into a wall. The Spartan was reaching for his energy katana when the Plague-carrier roared at everyone.

"Everyone get back!" The Spartan commanded as he charged ahead, activating his weapon and cutting through the claw that stretched out towards him. The Plague-carrier cried out in pain before it reached out with its other claw. Rather than cutting through it he used his thruster pack to dodge the the side before disabling its leg, making it crouch down close enough to him to cut off its head. The Plague carrier exploded in a cloud of gas, which everyone turned away from as it swept around. When it had dissipated, the Spartan was standing amongst the mangled, torn flesh of corpses used to create the Plague-carrier.

Archer ran over to Gunny's slump body nearby, rolling him onto his back and removing his helmet. She gasped as she noticed it: his entire face was covered in sores and already growth could be spotted.

The Spartan walked over to her. "It's the parasite. That Plague-carrier managed to break his helmet and intentionally infected him. There's nothing we can do."

Gunny groaned, showing how his life was fading away. "This wasn't how I imagined going out." He coughed.

"Don't joke about this." Archer growled, tears obviously forming in her eyes. "There's got to be something we can do."

"I'm afraid the Alpha Reclaimer is right." The monitor spoke. "My creators had attempted ways to create a cure for the Flood, but that research is on another right light years away. I am sorry. There is nothing else that can be done. Even if his suit hadn't been ruptured, taking his helmet off would have exposed him to the remaining parasites in the air."

Lucky stood up. "Remaining parasites?"

"Oh, yes. From my observations during the last visitor team's downfall, the Plague-carrier is a living bioweapons. The sacks on it carry the parasite in a gas form, using it to spread to other hosts. Its final defense was as you saw, a gas explosion and the deterioration of its body. The spores still remain in the air, and if you expose yourself to them, you have only minutes before you turn."

"Is that so?" Lucky spoke roughly before looking at the Spartan. In a matter of seconds he immediately had his shotgun pointed straight at his head. "Then that means the Spartan is infected, as well."

Michaels stepped forward. "That's bullshit! The Spartan's suit is locked in tighter than a Covenant prison. He couldn't get infected."

"You all saw how much gas surrounded him. Air filters and section seals can't protect from that. He even said it himself: there's no cure! Any minute now he's going to become one of those _things _and kill us all!"

The Spartan immediately spun around and removed Lucky's shotgun from his hands. The barrel that had once been pointed at the Spartan's head was now pointed right at its owner's face. Everyone became tense then.

"Please, this does not need to escalate to violence!" The monitor yelled. "The Alpha-Reclaimer's vitals show he is not infected. He can't become infected."

The Spartan kept his aim true at Lucky, but soon enough dropped his guard. He lowered the shotgun while Lucky lowered his arms. Lucky then turned to Imminent Tragedy 701.

"Why do you keep calling him the Alpha-Reclaimer?"

"His biomedical scans show he is the most advanced of your kind present. Therefore he is considered Alpha amongst you all. He is a fascinating specimen of your kind, bearing physical enhancements, cybernetic augmentations, and-" The Monitor stopped. "Wait. That can't be right. His genetic code shows trace amount of Parasitic qualities and Forerunner tampering patterns mostly associated with-" The Monitor looked at the Spartan. "Alpha-Reclaimer, have you been to Installation-01?"

Before the Spartan could answer, more loud screams could be coming from the room they came from.

"More of them are coming." Michaels spoke, panic looming over him. "We need to get back to the Pelican."

"I'm afraid that's out of the question, Reclaimers." The monitor spoke sadly. "The Flood are more than likely guarding your ship, either trying to find a way in to leave the ring, or to ensure you all cannot leave this ring alive."

"Any suggestions, then?"

"There is a room we can take shelter in not far from here. I can then seal the doors and get the teleportation systems active again. We can come up with a plan while we wait." The monitor began to move. "Follow me, reclaimers."

Archer stood up. "What about Gunny? We can't leave him here like this."

The monitor turned to face her. "Your friend only has a few more minutes before he loses himself completely and the Flood parasites take control of his body. You need to do what must be done."

The screams grew louder as the Plague-carriers came closer. "I'm not leaving him for those _things _to turn him into one of them."

"Fair point. The Plague-carriers would likely turn him into a new host. Very well. You can bring him along, but make it quick. You can then say your goodbyes and do what must be done." The monitor began moving again, and Bronco looked in the direction the Plague-carriers were coming from.

"One of you guys should hurry up and carry him. I'll cover you." He pulled his rocket launcher off of his back and got on one knee, setting his rifle on the floor so he could take proper aim. The Spartan handed Mirabelle back to a pissed off Lucky before crouching back down and scooping up a now-thrashing Gunny into his arms.

"I've got him. We have to move."

Archer stood up and nodded. Michaels took her arm and beckoned her to run, and they did. Lucky and the Spartan followed suite. Bronco stayed a moment longer to see the Plague-carriers turning the corner. There were at least four of them lined up, and he fired off his rockets in quick succession. He didn't stop to look at his victory, but the sound of exploding gas and mangled meat was music to his ears as he scooped his battle rifle into his hands and started running to catch up to his team. More screeches could be heard behind him, and he took a quick glance as he turned the corner to see Flood infection forms.

"Guys, we got a fucking problem!" He yelled as he tried running faster. The team made it into the large room the monitor had spoken of, and they turned to see Bronco still running from the Flood. The Spartan set Gunny down before grabbing his rifle off of his back.

"Give Bronco covering fire!" The Spartan commanded. Michaels took aim, firing off his rifle in succession. Archer took aim with her sniper at the larger ones getting closer to Bronco, breaking it into pieces as the bullet hit the parasite's face. The Spartan fired short bursts from his assault rifle until he needed to reload, just as Bronco jumped right in. "Close the door!"

The door immediately shut and was sealed tight.

"Everyone reload and make sure we're ready." The Spartan said as he released his empty clip, popping in a fresh one in quick succession. Michaels and Archer did the same before turning towards Gunny. He was still shaking violently, and the entire right side of his face was unrecognizable. It was horrifying to look at and must have been causing him terrible pain.

"Your friend is close to expiring." Imminent Tragedy 701 spoke. "You should say your goodbyes now. I will wait." The monitor flew away from the group for a moment. Bronco set his empty rocket launcher down and walked over to Lucky and Gunny, crouching down next to him. Archer had done the same, even going as far as to remove her helmet. Michaels and the Spartan remained standing.

Bronco was the first to speak. "Guess you're regretting not having that beer now, huh?"

"Not one bit." Gunny spoke weakly. "I had a feeling this mission might have been my last."

"Come on, boss. Don't say that."

Gunny tried to laugh. "I guess it doesn't matter now. Bronco, I want you to know I respect you for sticking by me through all of this."

"We've been through some tough missions. I'm gonna miss you, boss."

Gunny turned towards Lucky. "Lucky, you old bastard. I don't want you giving off any more sass while I'm gone, okay?"

"Can't promise that, boss." Lucky snarked. "You know how I am."

Gunny tried laughing again before he had to suck in a breath of air. He then turned back towards Archer. "Kayla, listen to me."

"Don't." Archer spoke, tears starting to form.

"You're in charge now. Take care of the team for me, will you?" Archer appeared to choke on her words, so she simply nodded. Gunny then faced up to Michaels and the Spartan. "Well Private, I bet you weren't expecting this to happen on your first mission."

"I didn't want anything like this to happen." Michaels shrugged, sadness filling his voice.

"Nobody does. Take care of yourself, Echo. Spartan 107, promise me you'll get my men out safely."

The Spartan shook his head. "I can't make that promise, but I can promise you I'll fight my hardest to try and protect them. They won't go down without a fight."

"I guess that's all I can ask for." He sighed. "Now kill me before I become one of them."

The room went silent as the group looked around each other. Everyone appeared to be hesitant at first, but then Archer looked at the Spartan. For a moment Michaels thought that he would accept the task, but what he ended up saying surprised him.

"He's your leader. I can't be the one. Back on Installation 01 it made sense. Not now, though."

"Then I'll do it." Archer said as she detached her pistol. She brought it up to the deformed side of Gunny's head, and after he nodded his farewell she pulled the trigger. His head popped as blood, puss, and brain matter splattered over the wall. Everyone was silent for a few minutes after that, waiting around for someone to speak.

The monitor rejoined them silently. "I have calibrated the teleportation systems accordingly. We can now travel to the activation chamber to ensure the Flood cannot spread beyond this ring."

Archer stood up. "We aren't activating the ring."

"But protocol clearly states that in the event of a potential Flood outbreak-"

Lucky shot back up. "We aren't activating the fucking ring! There's a colony several light years away. There wouldn't be enough time for them to evacuate."

"We could probably use MAC rounds, right?" Michaels asked. "We could bomb them from orbit."

"Unacceptable." The monitor interrupted. "After calculating the data provided by the last group, I had calculated that the use of your MAC rounds could cause enough catastrophe to the ring that it would fail. It would destroy the ring!"

"So what?" He snidely remarked, getting close to Imminent Tragedy's face.

His eye began glowing red. "HOW DARE YOU! YOU THREATEN MY HOME! UNACCEPTABLE! UNACCEPTABLE!"

"Enough!" The Spartan yelled, grabbing their attention. "Either option is unacceptable to both parties. If my brother was here, he could have easily jury-rigged the ring and changed its targeting parameters to focus all concentration of Halo's pulse to destroy the Flood. But he's off doing God knows what far away from here. We're going to have to get creative."

Michaels turned to face the Spartan. "Wait, your brother managed to make a Halo ring destroy Flood?"

"That never seemed possible according to my creators." Imminent Tragedy spoke, calming down from his outburst. "They could never figure out how to calibrate the targeting system towards the Flood."

"He managed it." The Spartan spoke. "He targeted all of the destructive power of the ring's pulse to work on only the ring. It destroyed the Flood occupying the ring, including the Gravemind that had taken over. After that, we exited the shielded Control Room alive, but changed."

"Changed in what way?"

The monitor scanned the Spartan over a period of a few seconds. "Curious. His genetic structure shows signs of the Parasite's genetic code, only it's stable. And then there is the additional patterns indicating he had interacted with Forerunner technology. Alpha-Reclaimer, what had happened to you to give you such abilities as an immunity to the Flood?"

Everyone was staring at the Spartan intently. Michaels was shocked, Lucky was pissed, Archer was still sad but now curious, and Bronco was confused. The Spartan appeared to be hesitant to talk, which only made them impatient.

"What's this bullshit about having an immunity to the Flood?" Lucky snarled, looking right at him.

The Spartan then set his rifle back onto the magnetic clip of his armor and reached to take off his helmet. Slowly he pulled it off, giving Michaels his first good look of him. He was in his late twenties, sporting many scars across his face both small and large. His face was cleanly shaven, his hair as short as Michaels believed, and his expression stern. His eyes, however were closed, but it was when they opened that surprised them. They were white with a shade of blue mixed in. They almost glowed in the darkened room they were in.

"Before I was accepted into the SPARTAN-IV program, we were onboard a vessel that managed to stumble across Installation 01. I volunteered to lead a team similar to this one ontothe ring. It was composed of myself, my brother, and our friends. The Flood had been released and ONI had kept the details to a minimum. We walked in onto a large group of Flood. My brother and I got infected, but we fought the corruption through sheer will. I merely shielded their influence while Trevor openly challenged the infection to try and claim his mind. My brother and I made it to a lab where the Forerunners had attempted ways of curing the Flood infection. An Artificial Intelligence based off of one of their former scientists offered us aid, and with the use of some of their technology it unlocked our DNA's code. We weren't cured, for there isn't a cure. But we are immune."

"What happened to your eyes?" Bronco asked.

"A minor genetic mutation. They can now see better than the average 20/20 eyesight. I don't like showing them off, though. People already consider me a machine. No need to add to the idea. The addition of the Flood virus forever in my DNA is increased strength, speed, and endurance. There are some drawbacks, however."

"Such as?" Archer asked.

"I can hear Graveminds. Whenever one is nearby, they speak through telepathy, calling us. Their voices are impossible to block out, which can be a problem. I bet that if we went to the source of the Flood here, I would hear it trying to convince me to serve it. Thankfully, it can't control me. It can only annoy me."

"That's very reassuring." Lucky said sarcastically.

"That's why I volunteered my services towards this mission. When I heard an entire survey team was missing I knew the Flood was the most likely reason. I came here to try and protect you all."

Lucky stepped up to him. "Nice job protecting us, tin can! Gunny's dead! You failed."

"I haven't failed unless you all die. I'm not going to let that happen, but I know that doesn't mean it won't. That's why I'm effective at my job. I know going in not everyone will survive, and I accepted that responsibility. I've lost too much already, and I don't intend to lose more."

Lucky snarled again before backing off. "So what now, Spartan?"

"Now we need to come up with a plan that gets rid of the Flood without the loss of innocent lives or the ring, to appeal to 701's request." He turned towards the Monitor. "Imminent Tragedy, do you know how far the Flood has spread on the ring?"

"Not far. Calculations show they are staying close to the nest. The entire forested region of the planet is where it hides, deep within the structure of the ring. I would have detached that section of the ring had the forest not been so beautiful. Of course I really should have, or else the Flood wouldn't have disabled key systems across the ring. All of the sentinel ports are disabled and had the survey team lived I could have asked them for help in repairing it."

"Do you have any ideas on how we can get rid of it now?"

"Considering that the Flood have stayed in the same location for so long I can only assume a Gravemind has taken form on the ring. Detaching the forest from the ring might not work anymore if that's the case. But there is still an option. The Armor of Denial had crashed on the ring. Its core had leaked radiation all around, causing the forest to form. Its hull is buried underneath it. I can teleport you inside so you can all kill the Gravemind. Then, with assistance, we can give off a timed radiation pulse to clear the entire site free of the infection."

"How would that work?"

"Scans of the area show that the Flood stay away from the radiation. You can pass through the irradiated areas due to the shielding systems aligned with your suit. Setting up the core to vent out all of its pent up radiation will kill the Flood outright, but the Gravemind is another matter. We must destroy it before activating the pulse, or it might try to build itself up again."

Bronco stood up, grabbing his rocket launcher. "I think Big Bertha can handle that." He quickly reloaded the rocket launcher with one of his spare clips.

"Splendid. We can teleport there immediately if you wish. Although I must ask that I hold onto the Index. While the Spartan is immune to the Flood, it is still likely possible one like himself would perish against the Flood."

The Spartan pulled the Index off of his belt, allowing the monitor to take it and store it away. Archer reached down to Gunny and removed his tags, offering them to the Spartan. "You're the only one who has a high chance of getting out of here alive. Will you hold onto them?"

The Spartan merely took the tags, sticking them in a pouch on his belt and shutting it tight. He then slipped on his helmet, blocking out his face again. "We're ready."

Archer slipped on her helmet and pulled her rifle off of her back. Imminent Tragedy activated the teleportation system, taking them away from the sealed room.

The corpse of Gunnery Sargent remained, resting peacefully in what was now his tomb.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Two more chapters to go, people. Things have kind of gone into spoiler territory with events that happened in 900, but hey, that's to be expected. The next chapter's going to be epic and destructive. Don't know when that will be out, but it will be. Remember to review for any questions/comments, but please KEEP IT CLEAN. :-)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4: The Belly of the Beast

The first thing Michaels felt was nausea.

Then a headache as he fell onto the floor.

Then he felt pain on specific parts of his body as the others landed on top of him.

Imminent Tragedy floated above them, appearing nervous. "I apologize for that. It appears the period of time between the calibrations for the teleportation system has rendered some of the functions to be defective. I will see if I can get that fixed sometime."

Lucky stood up first. "Why couldn't you try that during the waiting period you had with us saying goodbye to Gunny?"

"My sensors are having trouble picking up little details. I'm hundreds of thousands of years old, have forgotten my name at least twice, and have changed my name four hundred times out of boredom. Penitent Solace 16807 was fine when I was a young orb but Imminent Tragedy 701 fits me today."

"Somehow I feel like that's foreshadowing something."

"The First Reclaimer agreed with you. Adam was such a spectacular guest. So was his once-enemy, Kesod'Eishan. Their input on your cultures was a true Eye-opener."

Everyone was now up and ready for what Michaels was considering a suicide mission. They were in the heart of Flood territory, filled with hundreds of corpses resurrected by an ancient evil Michaels had little experience with. There were only five of them (six if Imminent Tragedy was to be included) against perhaps hundreds. And even if they had the Spartan with the Flood immunity and enhanced physique it just meant he had a higher chance of survival than the rest of them.

Michaels was convinced none of them would survive.

"Tragedy," The Spartan spoke, "how close are we to the reactor core?"

"We are on the part of the ship that held together the most. Engines, Weapons, and the Reactor are within this structure. We need to travel through the corridors and pass by the mess hall before going down two floors. Be advised, the parasitic spores are strong in this area. Removing your suits will cause immediate Flood infection and deterioration. Keeping your helmets on is the only option while we're here."

"Wonderful." Lucky spoke sarcastically.

"What if it gets too hot, though?" Bronco asked. "I don't want to be sweating."

"You'll have to." Archer spoke, walking forward. "Let's find the core then rig it to release all of the excess radiation."

"What about our escape plan?" Michaels asked.

"You mean if we can make it out of here alive?" Archer's tone showing that she didn't believe survival to be possible.

"I believe I have a plan for that." The Spartan interrupted. "Tragedy said the weapons controls are here. We could rig a missile to fire at the top of the tomb. It can create an escape route and we can try to find a vehicle or other means of escaping."

"What happens if the Flood try to use our escape route, though?" Lucky asked.

"We can set the missile for a countdown and have it launch as we try to leave."

"An excellent idea." The Monitor agreed. "I have my few remaining sentinels attempting to seal off every possible route the Flood can use to escape. They would help us but until I restore power to their dispenser units they are few in number. Oh, if only I could get ahold of a dozen Promethean Knights. They could easily handle retaking the Installation from the infestation."

"Where are the weapon controls located?"

"Not far from here. What do you have in mind, Alpha Reclaimer?"

"I want you to take Lucky and Echo to the Weapons Control Station. I'll take Archer and Bronco and we'll make our way to the Core. If fate is kind, we can meet up in one of the hangers and find a still functional Pelican, or any other means of air transportation. Then we can depart and let the Flood get cooked by the radiation."

"Very well. If you require assistance we will respond quickly."

"Understood." He waved his hand in a forward motion. "Let's move, Maximus. We have a mission to complete and not much time to do it." The Spartan walked forward with Archer and Bronco well behind him. Michaels turned towards Lucky, who simply shrugged.

"Well," Lucky spoke, "Guess we have to set a missile up for launch." He turned towards the Monitor. "Lead the way, lightbulb."

"That is not my name." The Monitor spoke.

"No, but it's what you look like. Now just show us where Weapons Control is."

"Very well." The Monitor began floating away, leading them towards their destination. Michaels kept a lookout from behind while Lucky kept his eyes up front. However, the whole walk there was quiet.

Too quiet.

"It's too quiet." Michaels spoke. "I don't like this."

"You know that phrase is right up with 'what could possibly go wrong,' right?"

"Yeah, but seriously, there hasn't been any sign of the Flood, or even a noise."

"Maybe that means they're going after the Spartan first. Makes sense to go after the bigger threat."

"Maybe." Michaels admitted as they reached the door to the Weapons Control Station. "But I still feel like we're walking into a trap."

The Spartan had finally made it to a downed elevator with only the cables still attached. This was obviously where they would need to descend from. That meant using the cable.

A sharp whispering made him tense.

Archer caught notice of this. "What is it, Spartan?"

"There's a Gravemind nearby. He's trying to reach out to me."

"How near?"

"On the same floor as the reactor. He wants to speak to me, but he also wants you dead. He knows I won't allow that, so he will try to stop us and plans to drag me to him by force."

"Obviously that's not going to happen." Bronco laughed.

"Were it so easy." The Spartan latched his rifle onto his back and jumped for the cable. He caught hold of it and slid down easily. In one quick motion, he swung forward, rolled onto the floor, pulled his rifle out and took aim. No Flood stood in his way at the moment, but that was all likely to change. "It's clear for the moment."

Archer followed suite, sliding down and swinging in. Bronco followed after. His landing was a bit clumsier, but he managed to get inside. He grabbed hold of his rifle and positioned himself accordingly.

It was after that that the first screech was heard.

After a few minutes of tinkering around with the controls, Lucky had managed to calibrate one of the missiles launch sequence. "All right. I've given us fifteen minutes before the missile launches to the ceiling. Hopefully the others have managed to reach the core."

"Let's hope so." Michaels sighed. He then decided to ask a question. "Why do you hate the Spartan so much?"

Lucky grabbed his shotgun, gripping it tensely. "You don't seem to understand. Those Spartans are considered Saviors, yet they failed in their duty to protect the weak. Arcadia burned, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. Neither could the Spartans."

"I'm not talking about the Spartans as a whole. I mean the Spartan who has tried to get through to you that they aren't all saints. They're just people."

"They don't act like it. He especially doesn't act like a human. Hell, considering what happened to him, I doubt he's even human anymore."

"He may not seem like it, but he is. Ignore the augmentations and such and he has thoughts, feelings, emotions. He just hides behind the mask of a warrior."

"Why does he hide, then?" Lucky shrugged. "Who is he hiding from?"

"Himself, maybe?" Michaels guessed. Honestly, he wasn't sure. The Spartan explained how he wore the face of the Warrior on the Battlefield because emotion could compromise the mission, but he never said anything about being afraid to show emotion. "I know he always expects he's going to die everyday. He always is prepared for that fate. Yet death has never claimed him."

"Too bad for him." Lucky replied sarcastically.

Michaels looked at him seriously. "He's been willing to put his life on the line for us and you still mock him? How can you be so daft?"

"I haven't seen him be willing to die for any of us. You're just being crazy."

"And you're being an ass."

Lucky was about to retort when the radio went off in his ear.

_"Lucky, this is Archer. Can you hear me?" _Gunshots could be heard in the background.

"We hear you. What's the situation?"

_"We've got a major problem."_

Back down below the Spartan was huddling with Archer and Bronco in a circle as hordes of Flood parasites poured in, attempting to rip apart the intruders. Each shot they fired was timed accordingly, every reload was done in an instant, and every shell casing was pouring into piles by their feet. Archer was having more difficulty, however, since the sniper rifle had only a few bullets at a time.

"We've been ambushed by a large swarm of Flood. We need immediate assistance.

_"We're on our way." _Lucky spoke before the connection was cut. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Keep it together, soldier." The Spartan commanded. "We just need to hold out a little longer."

Bronco dropped his rifle. "I'm out. How much more ammo you guys have?" He asked as he pulled his rocket launcher off of his back.

"Two more clips." Archer spoke, reloading her rifle.

"About three more for my rifle." The Spartan answered, continuing to fire down his end.

Bronco stood up, spotting the large horde approaching on his side before firing both rockets down. The resulting explosion not only destroyed the Flood, but also collapsed the passageway. He dropped the now-empty weapon for the time being. "That's right! You got taken down by Big Bertha, bitches!" He laughed.

"Bronco, control yourself. That won't be the last of them." Archer warned, facing him.

The Spartan was about to speak when his head began to tingle again.

Bronco continued to parade around. "You can't stand to face the Bronco! That's right! I am invinci-" His last word was cut off as a tentacle came from the ceiling and wrapped around his head. The Spartan attempted to free him before the tentacle dragged Bronco up into the ceiling; the poor man's cries the only thing they heard.

"Bronco!" The two of them yelled.

The Spartan felt more tingling thoughts and turned to face Archer, only to see as a mutated Spartan swung a claw straight through her neck. Her head was cut clean off, and fell to the floor right in front of the Spartan's eyes. Time seemed to move slow as her body collapsed, but the rest of the Spartan pack was arriving, obviously giving the Spartan one simple choice.

Surrender, or die.

His rifle was currently empty, so he set it back into the magnetic clip on his back. Bodies lay everywhere from the carnage of the battle, and the remaining Flood just stared at him, almost commanding him to move.

In an instant, he moved towards them in a fury.

He pulled his knife out from its sheath, instantly stabbing the one in front of him right in the head. The others attempted to fight right after that, but he moved faster, pushing their fallen comrade right at them. His foot immediately kicked up Archer's sniper rifle and he caught it in mid-air, firing off all four bullets at the confused Spartan Flood group. One by one each fell, and the last remaining Flood just stared as he beat another one of their brethren to death with the rifle like it was a club.

The Spartan chucked the rifle to the side when he was sure the Flood soldier he had beaten was dead. He looked at the last remaining Flood, who appeared to retreat as he looked at him. Alone, he remained still for a few moments before removing his knife from the Spartan Flood he had impaled. Shaking off most of the Flood's excretions, he cleaned the blade off before sliding it back into its sheath.

At that moment, another tentacle appeared and grabbed his ankle, pulling him down and dragging him off. He attempted to struggle and grabbed his pistol, firing off all eight shots at the massive appendage of the Gravemind that had established itself within the grave. The response he got was a slam in the wall, before another tentacle came to hold his arms to his body. Soon it had him completely enveloped as he was pulled through a large hole.

Michaels, Lucky, and Imminent Tragedy finally made it down the elevator shaft. The sounds they had heard during their descent had them worried, especially when the ship seemed to shake from an obvious explosion. Nobody was answering their radio, either. They looked around at all of the carnage that had ensued. Lucky was gripping his shotgun hard until he saw Archer's body on the ground.

Caught in shock he ran towards it, falling to his knees at the sight. A pool of blood was falling from where her neck once was, and her head was sitting right next to her body. Her rifle had been discarded, covered in Flood guts all over the stock. Bronco's weapons had also been discarded, but there was no sign of the Spartan.

"They're all dead." Lucky spoke sorrowfully. "We couldn't save them."

Michaels tried to stay positive. "We don't know that. Bronco and the Spartan could still be alive."

"Brock would have never parted with Big Bertha, even when he's out of rockets. Trust me, he's dead. As for the Spartan, there isn't a body, but he's likely been overpowered by them. I wouldn't count on him being alive."

Imminent Tragedy performed a quick scan of the area. "The Alpha Reclaimer is alive, and is currently at the location of the Gravemind. He may be in danger."

"We have to help him, then!" Michaels shouted.

"Forget about him." Lucky spoke, standing up. "He can handle himself."

Michaels faced him. "He's facing against a Gravemind, one of the most dangerous beings in the universe. He can't do it alone!"

"Then let him die. It's what he wants, like you said."

"Just because someone wants to die doesn't mean they should. If a man tried to jump off of a building right in front of you, would you allow it?"

"That's different. The Spartan knows our chances of survival are slim. He's willing to die for us because he knows we are more likely to die than himself. We have to set up the reactor to release the radiation."

Michaels was furious. "You can do that yourself. I'm going to help the Spartan." He began to walk away.

"You know that means you'll likely die, right?"

"Then I'll die for something I believe in. Just make sure that core's ready. We'll be back before you know it."

Lucky and Imminent Tragedy continued to look before Lucky spoke again.

"Tragedy, is the way to the Reactor clear?"

"Yes. The Gravemind wasted an incredible amount of his army just trying to stop the Spartan. It should be mostly clear if my scans are correct."

"Go with the kid and makes sure he doesn't get hurt."

"Very well." The monitor followed off after Michaels. Lucky merely sighed.

"Let's hope that kid doesn't get killed over this."

As the Gravemind had finally stopped pulling the Spartan through the ship, it pulled him up to face him in a giant hollow space of the grave. Remnants of the lab could be seen through some random holes in the ground, and the Spartan managed to see plenty of the roots burrowed into the ground. As he got a good look at the large plant-like being, he noticed it fit descriptions of the Gravemind the Master Chief had encountered, based on reports that were filled out in between the transport through the Ark.

_"I am a monument to your sins." _The Gravemind spoke. _"Years I have spent dormant, waiting for more bodies to consume and control and command. Now I face you, a protein that refuses transformation into what you should truly be. You are an anomoly, one that is easy to read but hard to decipher. Why is this?"_

"You're referring to my immunity to your parasitic spores." The Spartan spoke, attempting to free himself from his binds.

_"You carry the plague, but you refuse to become one of us."_

"My DNA has been augmented by Forerunner tech. In theory, I am a metahuman with unlocked capabilities. Already having once been infected, my brother and I managed to gain a full immunity. You cannot consume us, but at the same time you can still communicate with us, as you no doubt know."

_"An immunity as such that you mentioned should not be possible."_

"We're special that way."

_"You do not yet comprehend what you are. Eons ago, my kind had created all life in the universe. Human, Forerunner, Sangheili; all were allowed to thrive and they were protected. But our enemy, the Forerunners, took our mantle from us, and then we came back as this. Humankind were the only ones worthy of the Mantle of Responsibility, as your kind had once proved. But your war against us nearly led to the Forerunners exterminating you. They ended up devolving you into mindless creatures, which they then believed lead to their downfall. Our kind, now the Flood, sought to take our vengeance against our old foes, and then they created Halo, and sealed us within it as all galactic life was eradicated. Now we stand here together, a Gravemind and a human who's evolution is the closest I have seen to your ancient race."_

"Assuming everything you say is true, if you truly were some of the first beings to exist, why turn from protector to conquerer? Why harvest all life in the galaxy?"

_"We know nothing else. Even the knowledge I possess is little compared to what our kind had once known. We only know hunger, now, and you are a meal that refuses our fill."_

Michaels walked through the large hole that led to the Gravemind's chambers, staying silent as he could hear the conversation taking place. The booming voice wasn't enough to prepare him for the actual look of the creature. It was a massive plant that creeped him out, and the Spartan was trapped within a giant tentacle coiled around him. Michaels looked around until he thought he saw something useful. Within part of the rubble was a large weapon he instantly pegged as a Spartan Laser.

That's what he was going to use to help the Spartan.

Imminent Tragedy flew out behind him, immediately taking note of the Gravemind. Michaels turned to face him.

"Can you distract the Gravemind for a minute?"

"Certainly." Imminent Tragedy flew up towards the Spartan. "Alpha Reclaimer! This is no time to be tangled up by a Gravemind! We must hurry up and activate the Index."

_"This one knows that the Spartan has no intention of activating the ring." _The Gravemind spoke.

"Nonsense. Protocol dictacts that any Reclaimer in the vicinity would activate the Ring to stop the Flood incursion."

_"Begone, infernal machine! Your forces cannot stop the coming storm."_

"There will be no storm. Reclaimer, we must-" the monitor was interrupted as a tentacle hit him towards a wall. Imminent Tragedy teleported and regained his balance. "How dare you, vile creature!"

_"How dare I?! How dare you! Your creators believed themselves to be worthy of the Mantle, only to end up destroying themselves to save themselves from feeling our wrath. This tomb is going to be open, and we will restore order to this chaos the galaxy has caused. I will bring back the glory of the Precursors!"_

As he finished his speech, a high-pitched noise could be heard as a Spartan Laser was charged up.

When it finished, a laser was fired straight through the tentacle that had bound the Spartan, freeing him as he fell to his feet. The Gravemind roared in response. The Spartan looked over to see Michaels holding a Spartan Laser, now pointing it at the Gravemind.

"I'll be damned." The Spartan responded.

The Gravemind became more active then, swinging around his tentacle arms in an attempt to capture the humans. With his arms free the Spartan easily went for his energy katana, pulling it out from its special compartment. As the first few tentacles flew at him he swung swiftly, chopping straight through them. Michaels attempted to aim at the Grave mind, having to jump around as it swung. One tentacle came swinging right at him, but the Spartan thrusted up and sliced through the appendage.

"Take another shot. I'll protect you." The Spartan continued swinging and chopping through the Gravemind, rendering it mostly defenseless. Michaels quickly looked for a good place to aim, straight at the point where its large mouth met the neck. He charged it for one second... Two seconds... Three... Four... Five...

The crimson blade of light shot straight through the giant plant being, swiping its head from its neck. The large head fell to the floor and shook the whole tomb. When it was over the two soldiers relaxed, dropping their guard.

The Spartan turned and faced Michaels. "Well done, soldier."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. If I had had any say, however, I would have told you to go on without me."

"Lucky's probably setting the reactor ready to vent out the radiation through here in one major pulse. We should get to him to make sure we all get out of here alive."

"Agreed." The Spartan spoke, grabbing his rifle and quickly reloading. "Let's move. With the Gravemind dead, any remaining servants will likely try to return and revive it with their own flesh."

Lucky mumbled under his breath as he opened the door to the reactor room. Keeping Mirabelle close he swung around, keeping an eye out for any Flood guarding the location. The room looked clear so far, but he had doubts it would stay that way. When he thought it may have been clear he reached the console, typing away to set a timer on the the core ventilation process.

A noise behind him caused him to turn, firing his shotgun at the impending opponent.

Sure enough, a few Flood combat forms of former marines came down from the vents. Mirabelle managed to make short work of them as Lucky fired off one shot after another. The pile of corpses piled up fast, and Lucky was about to reload when another Flood dropped behind him, knocking him away from the console.

"Son of a Dick!" Lucky cursed as he fell to the floor, dropping Mirabelle. The infected form growled as Lucky stumbled to get back up. During his attempt he got a good look at it. It was human but it wasn't like any of the other Flood combat forms. Perhaps it was a Flood in the early stages of becoming a Sporecarrier. There were noticeable bubbles forming on its back, and its fingers were now long talons. Lucky pulled out his pistol and started firing at the creature, but it was lightning fast as it jumped at him, digging one of its long talons through his shoulder. Lucky cried out in pain, but didn't give up as he threw all of his strength into removing the creature. The Flood Sporecarrier flew back, and Lucky fell backwards, landing next to Mirabelle. The Sporecarrier yelled as it darted towards him again, and Lucky grabbed hold of Mirabelle as it jumped into the air.

Mirabelle fired off her last shot, and the Sporecarrier exploded into a cloud of dust.

Lucky could feel the agonizing burn as the parasite latched onto his wounded shoulder, but he ignored it as he walked over to make sure that the timer would still be set. "This is officially the worst mission ever. Of all time." He hit a few buttons on the console.

_"Radiation Levels Critical. Manual Activation Required. Timed Activation Unassessible."_

"Fuck." Lucky mumbled, not realizing that Michaels and the Spartan were approaching.

"Lucky!" Michaels yelled, glad to see that he had made it to the reactor room in one piece. "I got the Spartan. Let's get out of here before this place gets irradiated."

"We have a problem." Lucky spoke, not hiding any emotion. "Timer's fried. I'm going to have to fire it manually."

Michaels couldn't process that. "What do you mean you're going to have to fire it manually?"

"I mean you and the Spartan better get to the hangar bay and pray to God that there's a vehicle for you to leave this place."

"Lucky, what's going on?"

Imminent Tragedy flew by in a panic. "Reclaimers, we have a large swarm of Flood approaching the reactor room. We must-" He stopped. "Oh, my. It appears one of you has been infected by the parasite. Vital measures should be taken soon to avoid giving another body to the Flood."

Michaels was about to ask what Tragedy was talking about when he noticed Lucky's wounded shoulder. It was now oozing green puss. "Oh, no. Lucky, I'm so sorry-"

"Save it." He shrugged. "It was impossible to avoid the Sporecarrier's cloud. This just means the choice is easier to make. Spartan, get the kid out of here alive. You want to prove you came here to save us? Save him. That's all that matters right now."

The Spartan nodded, but he remained quiet.

"Give me that laser, kid." Lucky motioned towards the Spartan Laser Michaels was still carrying. "If there's too many for me to handle I'll collapse this entrance. I'll buy you guys some time."

Michaels was hesitant, but after a moment he gave the large weapon over to Lucky. "Are you sure-"

"Yes. It's better this way." Lucky spoke grimly.

Michaels tried to speak again, but he choked on his words. All he could was simply nod before grabbing his DMR from his back and walking off. The Spartan walked up next.

"Here." The Spartan held out a Battle Rifle and a few clips. "It's fully loaded and you'll need all the ammo you can get."

Lucky took the ammo first, setting it onto his belt. He then took the rifle into his free hand. "Keep in touch. Once you're in the clear I'm activating the vent program. Good luck."

"See you in Valhalla." The Spartan spoke, giving one final nod before running to catch up with Tragedy and Michaels. Lucky set the laser down next to him, made himself comfortable, and took aim, already hearing the sounds of approaching Flood.

Michaels ran for his life, following Imminent Tragedy as he led him through the ship to the surviving hanger. The Spartan wasn't far behind, keeping up with the rookie soldier easily. Tragedy was very fast, however, and Michaels was having trouble keeping up.

"How much further?"

"Not far, now. We are approaching what should remain of the hangar."

"Can you scan any vehicles?" The Spartan asked.

"There is one Pelican that appears to be intact. We should make haste."

Michaels felt his legs were ready to give out. "I thought we were already making haste! I feel ready to collapse!"

"That means you're alive." The Spartan retorted. "Let's move. I can fly us out of here once we get there."

Lucky was reloading both the Battle Rifle and Mirabelle during a quick breathing period. There weren't any more Flood approaching at the current moment so he had plenty of time. He brought up the radio as he loaded another shell into Mirabelle. "How's it coming, guys. I've probably got another seven minutes before my brain is toast."

_"We just reached the hangar. There's a Pelican that's still functional. I'm activating the engines now."_

"Roger that, Spartan."

_"Is that missile you guys primed ready to fire?"_

"It's gonna launch in about thirty seconds. I've kept count. Hopefully that'll go off without a hitch." He loaded another shell in as his arm continued to burn. With his good arm he pumped in the first shell, waiting for reinforcements.

Michaels held on as the Spartan managed to start up the Pelican, bringing it into the air immediately. It flew out of the hangar and hung around the top of the ship. The missile countdown was blaring loudly as it went from five to one. The missile was about to-

The release clamp got stuck.

"The missile!" Michaels yelled. "It's stuck!"

The Spartan turned to see that what Michaels was saying was true. The missile hatch was stuck on something. "Michaels, get over here and hold the controls. I'm going down there to investigate."

Michaels looked back at the hull where the missile sihlo was. He then looked back at the Spartan.

"Michaels, get over here! Someone needs to hold the pelican steady!" The Spartan commanded.

Michaels knew what had to be done.

In an instant he jumped off of the Pelican, rolling along the hull to avoid injury. He sprinted towards the stuck hatch and looked to find the problem. There was a large metal rod shoved between the mechanism that releases the missile. He attempted to remove it with all of his strength, pulling as hard as he could to remove it.

The Spartan ran over to see what had happened to Michaels. The kid had jumped out and was trying to pull something out of the mechanism. He turned over to Imminent Tragedy. "Hold the Pelican steady. I'm going to save Michaels."

"But I don't have any arms!" Tragedy pointed out. "How am I supposed to keep a ship balanced?"

"You can influence electronics, right?"

Tragedy appeared to blink. "Oh, right." He sent out a beam of energy onto the controls of the Pelican, holding it in place for the two of them. "Please hurry back. I don't know how long I'll be able to do this."

The Spartan ran out of the cockpit and jumped down to the hull, rolling along and reaching Michaels. He moved him out of the way and grabbed the metal bar, pulling it up with one attempt. "This is why I told you to stay on the Pelican."

Michaels was about to protest when they heard Flood sounds approaching them. They turned to see a small contingent of Flood approaching.

"Hold them off while I get this thing working." The Spartan threw the metal bar at the Flood, crushing two of them. Michaels grabbed his DMR and began placing headshots into the approaching Flood. The Spartan, meanwhile, was trying to push the now-free latch inward so it could open the hatch and release the missile.

_"What's going on up there?!" _Lucky yelled over the radio. _"I haven't heard any explosion!"_

"We're working on it." The Spartan spoke calmly, slamming his body into the release to try and make it move. "The hatch won't open."

_"It'd better open soon. I'm almost out of ammo, and time."_

The Spartan switched from slamming his body to just kicking it with full force. Michaels was running out of ammo on his DMR so he switched over to his pistol, firing at every Flood creature that approached. "I'm almost out of ammo!"

"Come on!" The Spartan yelled as he kicked his hardest onto the latch.

Meanwhile, Lucky was dropping his Battle Rifle. He had used up the last of the rounds and was picking up the Spartan Laser. He charged the beam and fired down the hall, severing multiple Flood soldiers. With only one charge left, however, Lucky knew he would be overwhelmed soon. With no other options, he aimed at the ceiling near the entrance and fired away, collapsing the door on top of a few Flood members.

That final kick from the Spartan sent the clamp forward, releasing the hatch and launching the missile straight into the ceiling. The impending explosion sent parts of Forerunner metals colliding with the ship, and the Spartan knew they had to run. "Bring the ship closer, Tragedy! We have to jump!"

_"I'll try, but hurry. No doubt the Flood are going to try to take a chance and escape." _The Pelican flew up closer to the hull and the Spartan waved at Michaels.

"Go!" He yelled as he broke into a sprint. Michaels clipped his pistol and ran as fast as he could, jumping over to the Pelican and landing safely on the platform. The Spartan, however, was having trouble. Debris was still falling around him and he had to dodge pieces of metal that threatened to crush him.

"Come on, Spartan!" Michaels yelled, waving for him to jump. At the last moment a piece of metal landed right in front of the Spartan. At first Michaels thought that he had been crushed, but then he saw him appear from the dust, thrusting through the air and landing on the platform. He then ran towards the cockpit, taking over the controls and shutting the Pelican door.

"Lucky, we're leaving!" The Spartan yelled as he flew the Pelican through the hole, igniting the thrusters to full power. "Hit the Ventilation!"

Lucky sighed a breath of relief as he removed his helmet. His entire right side was swollen and covered in bubbles, but he was glad to hear that they were now gone. With a half-smile forming on his face he reached for the button, hearing the approaching Flood come down from the holes in the ceiling. They growled, but Lucky ignored them.

"See you boys in hell." Lucky laughed as he vented out the radiation.

The Pelican had reached space just as a large blue pulse covered the entire forest on Installation 06.

Michaels looked through the small glass window at the back of the Pelican. The entire blue haze of radiation covered all of the lush green that inhabited that small part of the ring. Soon after, it looked as if all of the plants in that area died, leaving only another barren desert on the ring. Michaels felt kind of sad that the entire forest had died off, but then he thought more about how his entire team was just killed.

Removing his helmet, he broke into tears, and then sobbed.

The Spartan shut the engines off, noticing they were reaching critical levels. He would soon radio in that the mission was a success, but for now, they needed a breather.

_"Brother... hear me?" _The Spartan's radio picked up a strange chatter. The sound appeared to come from one of his primary comm channels.

"Brother?" The Spartan asked, trying to patch into the radio.

_"There's still... interference. Need to... you. There's... going on here. I... your help. Please..." _The feed then cut to static.

"Trevor? Trevor!" The static continued, making him realize that the radio on his helmet was probably out. He removed his helmet and allowed it to float in the antigravity within the confines of the Pelican. He would have to try to get back in touch with him onboard the Spirit of Justice, where the broadcaster is stronger. He sighed in relief over how the hard part was finally over.

That's when he started hearing Michaels crying.

The Spartan turned around to see Michaels floating in the air. Imminent Tragedy was floating next to him, but he appeared more curious than helpful. The Spartan got out of his seat and floated over to his companion. Michaels's face was covered by his hands, but he dropped them when he noticed the Spartan was hovering right above him. Michaels's eyes were filled with tears, but even with his vision blurred he could see the Spartan remained expressionless.

The Spartan wrapped his arms around Michaels, holding him close as he continued to weep for his lost team. The Spartan just stayed quiet for the whole time, letting the private vent out his sadness for the time being. They floated there in silence for the time being, until the radio on-board the Pelican started picking up chatter.

_"We're picking up your signal, Pelican One. Is that you, Lieutenant?"_

The Spartan broke the hug and floated over to the cockpit. "This is Spartan 107. Mission is a success. Index is secure."

_"We're getting odd readings on the ring. What's going on? What's the status of Fire Team Maximus?"_

"Maximum is K.I.A. Private Michaels is the only one alive."

_"Understood. We're approaching your Pelican. Expect a debriefing onboard."_

"Yes, sir." The Spartan said as he cut the feed, watching as the Spirit of Justice pulled nearby. He activated the engines and pulled the ship into the docking bay.

"I wonder who will go over the debriefing." He said out loud as he picked his helmet up and carried it with him to the opening door. Michaels had also managed to stop crying and was ready to walk out. They walked out together to be greeted by Captain Reynolds.

Next to him was Commander Taylor, 107's superior.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So that was depressing.

If you guys are wondering whether or not the deaths of every member of Maximum besides Michaels was necessary, yes it was. Without saying too much, it will shape the character for his involvement in future stories revolving around Spartans 107 and 900 (Who, despite the fact that they should both be called Spartan Moore because that's their last names, are primarily referred to by those numbers by their Commander). There's going to be an epilogue chapter up sometime soon for you guys.


	6. Chapter 6

Onboard the Spirit of Justice

Leaving Installation 06; March 15, 2557

Michaels and the Spartan stood together with their helmets to their sides. Imminent Tragedy floated next to them silently, probably thinking about what had transpired. Michaels knew he was tired out. He had been drained since being onboard the Pelican, only realizing he had lost his entire squad. The Spartan had held him close during his episode, almost acting like a parent or a caring guardian as Michaels had cried. He was glad his eyes weren't too bloodshot, otherwise he would have looked like someone who didn't belong in the army.

Commander Taylor seemed to catch sight of that detail, though.

Taylor was a definite military man; his chiseled figure hidden behind his Commander's dressed blues (or grays if you wanted to be technical), which was a contrast to the growing strands of gray hair and forming wrinkles. His expression was stern as he looked over a fully detailed report that the Spartan managed to write within minutes of arriving back on the ship. So far, he hadn't spoken a word.

"Interesting." The Commander finally spoke. "I was unaware that we had already once made contact with this installation. Captain Reynolds did not share that little detail with me as I was brought aboard. I'm glad to see that my best soldier managed the dangers exceptionally."

"My whole team died, sir." Michaels interrupted.

"Casualties are always meant to be expected." Taylor spoke plainly, shrugging off the Private's words. "That's something 107's had drilled in his head since before he became an ODST himself. It's what makes him effective: he knows to accept that not everyone makes it out alive, even when he tries to make sure that they do."

Michael's expected the Spartan to comment, but he didn't even flinch.

"Now then, was there anything else that was not mentioned in this report you wish to speak of?"

The Spartan started. "Sir, as we were leaving the planet, I received a transmission from my brother. The message was full of static so I don't know what was going on. Have you heard anything from him?"

"I have not. You know I don't keep tabs on everything your brother does, especially with his reckless nature."

"His message came from the distress channel we had set up; one I know you follow."

"If he's in distress, it's of his own making. He's foolish and a loose cannon."

"You keep him around for those reasons. He's more effective that way. And if there's any reason to suspect that he's in danger, it means I need to know what he was doing."

Commander Taylor sighed. "I forgot that you're as stubborn as your brother."

"Dad was stubborn, too. It runs in the family."

"All right. The last I heard about your brother, he had left on a unsanctioned mission into Covenant territory. He never said why and hasn't answered back to us even on the regular channels. The UNSC wanted him and his pilot court-marshalled for this, however I managed to convince them to drop them, only because your brother has been an asset to the UNSC despite his rebellious nature. The only other details I could give you are that he discovered an apparent threat and went against his orders to go to this threat's location. I don't know where exactly he is at the moment. We're attempting to get in contact with the drop-off team assigned to bringing him to the UNSC Infinity. That's where you'll be stationed after this, 107."

"Understood, sir."

"Anything else?"

Michael's raised his hand. "Sir, while we had been at the outpost set up by the original survey team, I had discovered a strange transmission that the survey group had found on the Installation."

"And this should concern me, why?"

"Because the message is from a human who claims that the Earth was destroyed."

Taylor's look of indifference towards Michaels dropped to confusion. "What do you mean?"

Michaels stepped over to the terminal and connected his holopad to it, transmitting the mysterious message onto the screen. When it was finished Taylor's face was filled with genuine curiosity, but also a bit of confusion.

"This message doesn't make any sense whatsoever. Earth is still intact, and no one has invented a weapon called the EDEN Orbital Defense Networks. This has to be a fabrication."

"On the contrary," Imminent Tragedy spoke, "my memory banks remember my creators investigating this message. They believed that this message came from your kind during our war hundreds of thousands of years ago, but there were other theories as well."

"Such as?"

"Well, the person in the image did not wear the same clothing your kind did before the events of the Halo arrays, so they theorized it could have been from the past, or perhaps even the future. Then there was the way the message came to us. A survey group was investigating a black hole during its final stages, when the message came through clear as day."

"Humans have always assumed that wormholes in space could lead to parallel dimensions. Are you saying that's the case here? That this message came from an alternate reality?"

"More or less. My creators onboard the installation had been investigating much about the universe, and they even found a strange discovery. According to their research, there were small tears here and there within the fabric of reality itself."

"How is that possible?" Michaels asked.

"They suspected a form of dark energy was forming that made the boundaries between all planes of existence start to deteriorate. In short, something is working to rip the fabric of reality apart. Unfortunately, my creators could not continue their investigations due to the activation of the Halo arrays."

"What about their research data?" Taylor asked. "Do you still have it?"

"Of course. It was kept at another secure facility on the ring. The Flood hadn't spread far enough to destroy it, and we managed to eradicate all Flood forms during the purging of the radiation in the core of the Armor of Denial. If you would like, I can give you the coordinates to the location for your scientists to study."

"That would be good. Now, Spartan 107 has direct orders to be transferred to the UNSC Infinity. There are talks about placing you on a Fire Team; perhaps even leading it. As for Private Michaels, he is to be given an honorable discharge from the service and given counseling for what transpired on the ring."

Michael's shot his head up when he heard 'discharge' leave Taylor's lips. "Discharge? But I'm still capable of serving!"

"You lost your whole team on the first mission, and combine that with the threat you were forced to face along with your reckless behavior you won't be suited for this. Not every man can be a soldier like 107 here."

Michaels was about to protest when the Spartan spoke up. "Sir, if I may make a request."

Taylor simply nodded.

"Despite your belief that Michaels is unfit to be a soldier, I have to disagree. In fact, I believe him to be put up for Spartan training."

Taylor's face lit up at the same exact time as Michaels became surprised.

"A Spartan?! You want a rookie who nearly failed his first mission to become a Spartan?!"

"Michaels has proven to be a valuable combatant. Not only that, but he single-handed killed a Gravemind, saving my life in the process."

"Saving you?! The one soldier I trust to get the job done?!"

"I had underestimated the Gravemind's influence within the Armor of Denial. When it spoke to me, it had revealed it had a much larger intelligence than its predecessors. Michaels managed to kill it with a Spartan Laser before it could consume me and add all of my knowledge to its mind. And while Michaels may have suffered mentally from the mission, I assure you he can handle himself when it comes to the mission."

Taylor looked back at Michaels, who was no longer showing his weakness but rather his determination as the Spartan had graced him with confidence. "Very well." The grizzled commander finally spoke, the annoyance in his voice obvious. "Private Michaels shall undergo three weeks of psychological therapy. Meanwhile, I will speak to the Board about getting Michaels into the Spartan program. But if you don't show that you can handle the responsibility of being a Spartan we're pulling you from the program and discharging you. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Michaels stated, confident now that he was being given this opportunity.

"I'll contact Doctor Michel and see if she can handle the private's sessions." The Spartan spoke.

"Do you always trust the good doctor to do things for you, 107?"

"She's been a family friend since I was born. She can be trusted."

"Of course. You two are free for the night. At 0800 tomorrow the Spirit of Justice is rendezvousing with the UNSC Infinty, where we will board for the duration of the year and possibly beyond. Dismissed." Taylor gave off his salute, which Michaels and the Spartan performed right back. "Tragedy, if you don't mind I would like to ask you a few more questions in private."

The floating orb appeared to shake in excitement. "Oh, this is going to be exciting! I haven't had a nice conversation in a long time. On, how I have so many questions for you humans, as well."

"I'll be glad to answer any questions you may have as well. This will be interesting, to say the least." Taylor turned and began walking down the hall. Imminent Tragedy followed, floating next to him in a giddy fashion. After a few moments, Michaels turned to face the Spartan.

"Thank you." He sighed. "I didn't expect to hear the word 'discharge' after this mission."

"Commander Taylor has always been a hard-ass. He believed you wouldn't be able to handle anything else the military life could throw at you. But you did more than was expected of you during this. You followed your heart. That's what any warrior would do."

"Yeah, but you don't let your heart show. Why?"

The Spartan was silent for a second. Even without his helmet on it was still impossible to tell what he was thinking. "Some people work best that way. I don't show emotion or let my heart show for that reason. Besides my brother, you let it show, even though it could get hurt by those you trust. Why?"

"Because it makes me human."

"Human." The Spartan trailed off. "My brother would always joke that my shutting myself out during a battle made me less human and more like a robot. But he would never understand why I do this. There's too many reasons and I don't want to explain them."

"Why not?"

"Some are too personal, even for family. And our mindsets are different, as well."

"All right." Michaels went silent for a moment. "Why does Commander Taylor simply refer to you as 107?"

"He finds it easier. I was the one-hundred and seventh person selected for the Spartan program. The original Spartans had numbers to their name, and my brother and I have numbers as a way to honor those that died defending humanity."

"But what's your real name? No one I've met has called you by it."

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me. I want a name to the man, not the Spartan that saved my life."

The Spartan was quiet for a moment, and Michaels was afraid that he was going to walk away.

Instead, the Spartan smiled.

"Call me Zach. You earned the right to know that."

Michaels smiled. "Nice to meet you, Zach. Call me Henry." He extended his hand and Zach took it, shaking with a firm grip.

"Get some rest, Henry. Doctor Michel is on the Infinity, and you'll need to be ready tomorrow. She'll help you with what happened on the Ring."

The Spartan began to walk away.

"Will I see you again, Zach?"

Zach turned and faced him. "Time will tell, Henry. Until then, however, good night."

"Good night." Michaels waved as he walked away.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Michaels went to visit Doctor Michel in her office onboard the UNSC Infinity. The ship itself was huge and Michaels had to speed through it to make sure that he made it on time to his sessions. Doctor Michel was a kind woman whose age showed through her wisdom rather than her looks. She would greet Michaels every day with a smile on her face, and she made sure he was comfortable as they went through their sessions. Michael's felt comfortable around her, and he felt his condition improving.

Not only that, but after every session Doctor Michel would tell stories and answer questions about Zach. She had known his family since before he was born and she was ready to share the stories she had with him. From these stories he learned more about his family, his military career, the battles he won, the wounds he had suffered, and the men and women has had lost under his command. With everything the Spartan had gone through, Michaels would have assumed any man would have cracked.

But Zach was anything but ordinary.

Even at birth, Doctor Michel had known there was something special about Zach and his brother, Trevor. She couldn't figure out what it was, but she could see it. It was in their medical records, their debriefings from every successful mission, and even just in their eyes. Michaels asked if she knew anything about the mission to Installation 01, to which she replied "more than one should know." Michaels noticed that she was referring to Zach's secret of a Flood immunity, and instantly assumed the room was under surveillance, so he dropped the conversation.

"It has been three weeks now." Doctor Michel spoke as he sat down on the couch offered to him. "Have you been having the nightmares still?"

"Only one of them. It was the one with Lucky. I don't know why, but I think his death hit me the hardest. Maybe because during our time together I knew the most about him. He had a problem with Zach just because of his Spartan status, and I had tried to convince him that he wasn't a bad guy. Lucky went out on his own terms, but in those final moments he also dropped his hate, asking Zach to make sure I got out alive."

"Do you feel guilty for any of their deaths?"

"No. Guilt was never a factor of the emotions I felt. I had a hard time accepting their deaths, yes, but I never felt guilty for it. I wish I could have known them better, but my actions in the future can still honor their memories."

Doctor Michel typed away on her computer quickly. "Well, I think that's all we need. You've passed through my tests, and I am declaring you fit for Spartan training. And it seems the board agrees. It appears Zach continued to speak on your behalf, and the Board accepted his case. You are to report to the Spartan Deck and receive training effective immediately." Doctor Michel got up from her desk as Michaels got off of the couch. She extended her hand and he shook it. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Michaels smiled, heading for the door.

"Make sure you come visit from time to time. I always like to chat with friends of Zach and Trevor."

"I'll try, and thank you." Michaels headed out and to the elevator, taking instructions given through his holopad to the elevator. Coincidentally, Zach was standing right there, arms behind his back as if waiting for him. Instead of his armor, he was in the basic suit that connected all of the pieces together, and he also wore pants and military boots.

"Are you ready?" He asked, giving half a smile while staying stoic.

"More than ready." Michaels said, confidence filling him.

"Then let me be the first to welcome you, Spartan Michaels." Zach extended his hand, which Michaels shook. "Unfortunately, we may not have the pleasure of working together again, but today I am in charge of training the new recruits. We'll be sending you into the War Games where you will train in a simulated 4v4 battle against other new recruits, wearing the standard armor every recruit wears. Pick your weapons well, and good luck."

"Thank you." Michaels said, following him into the elevator ready to start his training to be a Spartan.

He was going to be the best, like the Spartan he owed his life to.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, this is the end of Nightmare Resurrected. I'm not sure what story will follow up this adventure yet, but know that Michaels will have a small role in events that shape this version of the Halo canon. If you would like more on Zach-107 and his brother, check out 900: A Halo Fanfiction by Domehead900. Thank you to everyone who has read and follow this story, and be sure to leave a review. But please KEEP IT CLEAN. XD


End file.
